Dragonsong
by Knotted
Summary: In an attempt to move forward from an event in her past, Seara agrees to give the Dragonborn a chance to stay in her life. What starts out as an agreement quickly changes... Will he help her move on, or will he only hinder her? OCxM!Dragonborn
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**A/N: The beginning of Dragonsong takes place a few years before the events of the game. After the first two chapters at least, events of the story will take place after the Civil War and just before the end of the main questline. Thank you for your time!**

In Whiterun, it seemed as though the sky was always blue. It rarely stormed, and when it did, the townspeople saw it as nothing more than a beneficial day of rain for the farmers on the outskirts of the city. The sun shined for at least part of every day, and out of everyone else, it made Seara the happiest.

Maybe it wasn't always this blue and pleasant, but it was how she saw it. She couldn't remember the last time something had happened in her life that she'd viewed negatively. She tucked her long brown hair behind her left ear and drew it over her right shoulder, tying it back and letting it fall over her dark green dress. She smiled as she picked up the shopping basket she'd woven herself, and headed out of the house and into the city gates.

Seara saw no reason to be angry about much of anything. Sad either, for that matter. Everything passed eventually, and the lives of Skyrim's residents were often much too short to spend in a bad mood. No one had ever ridiculed her for being happy, so why should she stop? Even the guards greeted her with a smile, knowing she wasn't anyone they needed to keep a close watch on. In her eighteen years, she could honestly say she hadn't made and enemy. The racism that had been rumored in Skyrim recently had obviously not reached the gates of Whiterun, and for that, she was thankful. The less hate in the city, the better off everyone was.

She pondered over whether or not her lack of enemies was due to the fact that she never got out. The farthest she'd ever ventured out of the city walls was to her own home, a small farm overlooking the White River. In her backyard, there was a bridge built to cross the water… but she'd never even so much as stood on it. She sometimes wondered how naive she might be, but her mother always told her that naivety was something to cherish.

"I don't suppose I have to ask you how you're doing today, dear," Fralia Grey-Mane said as Seara passed by her stall in the marketplace.

"I'm doing wonderfully," she replied, smiling. It was the same exchange they had every week when she came to shop or visit the inn, and it had become a sort of joke between the two of them.

"I'm glad to hear things have yet to change." Fralia laughed and waved her on.

She took her time gathering the things her mother had written down. By now most women her age would be complaining about their lives at home. She wouldn't be considered an adult until she turned twenty-one, and was therefore still living at home, but she didn't mind. Her father and mother tended to the farm, and they were good at what they did. Most days, she felt honored to help.

Once her basket was full, she started toward the gates, which the guard on duty graciously opened for her.

"Talos guide you," he said, placing a fist over his heart. She returned the gesture in traditional Nord custom, and proceeded.

The walk from the gates to the farm was one she especially loved. The flowers that grew wild in the fields were mesmerizing to her, and occasionally, she would stop and pick a few. Today was different, however, and she didn't stop. Something about her thoughts of the bridge behind her house had made her curious. When it came in sight she approached it slowly, as if it might be a danger to her, and then took her first step onto the arched stone surface. When she made it to the middle, she set her basket down and stared at the water. The White River certainly lived up to its name; the current was fast, the water furious. She studied the salmon, plugging away at the current and continuing to move upstream despite the conditions. It was their job to do what they were doing, she thought, easily amused.

As she listened to the roar of the current with her eyes closed, a scream broke out loud enough for her to hear over the rushing water. Whoever it was, they were female. Cursing herself for stepping outside of her comfort zone, Seara scooped up her basket and ran inside, locking the door behind her. Her parents were away at Dragonsreach, presenting the Jarl with fresh crops as a way of showing their respect. He could easily gain food elsewhere, but she was sure their hard work would be appreciated, if not rewarded. Despite the happiness she felt for them, she began to really wish they were home. She kept watch out the window, and within a few minutes, a figure was sprinting up the road. At closer examination, the figure revealed itself to be Til, her longtime best friend.

Tilliana had always been the adventurous one. She wasn't afraid to wander anywhere except crypts and caves, where she knew she would encounter trouble. Seara knew that if Til could get her hands on a sword or dagger, however, she would head off to explore those places without a second thought. Everywhere else, she was always safe, due to her slight form and quiet feet. If there was a time she was walking the streets and got hungry, she wouldn't hesitate to steal a slice of bread or an apple. She went everywhere in trousers and her blonde hair was styled short in the back and a few inches longer in the front, where she styled it to the side in an attempt to mock the Mohawks of some of the fiercest female warriors, without having to shave most of her hair off. Women in the city often gave her disapproving looks, and she returned them with a smile. She was very forward and almost never ladylike, but she didn't care. She was running so hard that her steps had turned into leaps, and she practically ran into the door before realizing it was locked. Seara let her in, and she doubled over, breathless.

"Bandits," she huffed.

"Are you okay?" Seara questioned, ready to lock the door again. "They aren't coming here are they?"

"I'm fine, and no, I don't think they ever saw me," Til replied, still gasping for air. "But not him-"

"Who's him?"

"I dunno, some guy! They caught him. I think he was looking for a fight with them, which was pretty idiotic, but he was losing when I ran. He looked about our age, and I think he's hurt… bad." She was silent for a few moments before looking up, impatient. "Well?"

"What do you expect _me_ to do?" Seara exclaimed. "I've never even been out of my yard, let alone near bandits!"

"As I ran past the Jorrvaskr watch tower, someone saw me—or heard me—and responded. The Companions will have already sent someone to take care of it, but you need to help that guy! He was still alive when I left, and the members of the Companions know about as much magic as a troll. If you come with me, you can heal him! You know how."

It was true that Seara knew a bit about restoration magic. Her mother had taken it upon herself to teach her everything she'd learned, but she was just starting out. She knew how to heal minor cuts and small wounds, things that would easily close. Anything worse than that, she was at a loss for.

"No, Til," she said firmly. Til was already dragging her out the door. "I'm just learning! I don't know enough to take someone's life into my hands."

"You might be able to help him, Sea!" Til was begging now. "Without you, he'll die anyway. With you, he'll either live, or die with a new friend by his side. Be a Nord for once. Be strong, just this one time."

Before Seara could object any further, Til was pulling her again. She reluctantly went along, mentally worrying more than she ever had before. When they reached the site of the bandit camp, two members of the Companions were already there, just as Til had expected. Seara flinched at the sound of the crunching bones, at the sight of the blood. Upon seeing the body of the young man, she took a deep breath and ran to him. What other choice did she have?

The smell of the blood hit her before she saw the wound. There were five arrows sticking out of his side, between his hip bone and the bottom of his ribcage. The arrows were jet black, and they were in deep. _Ebony,_ she thought. These weren't ordinary iron or steel arrows, and she was unsure how to approach the situation. The bandit who shot him had excellent aim to pierce him so many times and so close together. It was the weakest spot in his makeshift leather armor, which lead her to believe that he wasn't a very skilled blacksmith.

"Hey!" she called out to him as she knelt by his side. She lifted up his head, and his eyelids fluttered. "Open your eyes!"

He opened them a sad amount, and closed them tight again at the pain.

"All the way!"

He used what seemed to be the last remaining bit of his strength to do as she asked, and she could tell by looking at his pupils that there wasn't much time. She looked up at the sky, willing herself to remember how best to proceed.

"In order to close the wounds, I need to get the arrows out first," she told him. He nodded, but his eyes were shut tight again.

"Hurry," Til said, glancing over at the Companions.

"I'm dying," the young man said, his voice hoarse. "I can feel it."

"No you're not," Seara shot back, examining the entry position of the arrows. "You're going to make it through this just fine."

"I can't see straight," he said quietly. She could hear the pain in his voice. "Everything is blurry. But you look good. I figured if it's my last few minutes here, I might as well let you know." He coughed.

Seara resisted the urge to smile, and instead grabbed him by the shoulders and sat him upright.

"If it's your last few minutes here, you might as well start being a bit braver about them. Fight it. Fight death." She shook him. "I'm about to take these arrows out of your side, and it's going to hurt, but you're going to grit your teeth and fight through it. On the count of three, I'll take the first one out, okay?" Til stared at her intently, and the nameless boy nodded, looking tired.

"One…" She grabbed three of the arrows and yanked them out, causing him to swear profusely. "It's easier when you don't expect it." She pulled out the last two, and then began to undo his chest piece. She threw it to the side, blocking out the noise of the battle around her.

She lifted her hands and placed them over the wounds, feeling for the first time the warm blood of another being. It was an odd feeling, but one that she would have to get used if she planned on becoming a practiced healer. She pushed the thoughts of it away, and watched as her hands began to emit a faint glow. The punctures the arrows had made began to grow smaller, and much to her surprise, eventually closed. But the young man was still in pain, and she wondered what else she could do.

"I don't know how to heal deep wounds," she told him. "I've stopped the bleeding, but there's nothing more that can be done until we get you to the city."

"Something still isn't right," he said back to her. He was shaking, and on the verge of losing consciousness. "I told you I wouldn't make it through this."

She started to panic, feeling certain that there must have been something she had missed. He looked scared, but she knew he wouldn't be the type to admit it.

"If you're going to die like you say you are, I won't let you do it this way. Bare your teeth. Do it."

He did as she said, and it seemed to help somewhat with the pain, but she decided to about things a bit differently.

"What's that supposed to be?" she taunted. "If you're a Nord, you sure don't look like one. Where's your battle cry?"

He grit his teeth harder but made no sound, and shook his head.

"I said yell!"

He let out his best yell, but sounded pained. At least it was keeping him conscious.

"Good. Now you sound like you might make it to Sovngarde," she said.

They went back and forth this way for a few more minutes, until the last bandit had dropped dead. Til called out to the Companions, and they ran over to where they sat. They appeared to be twin brothers, and looked strong enough to handle whatever was thrown at them.

"I'll pay you if you agree to get this guy back to the city," she explained, sweeping the long part of her hair away from her eyes. In all the hurry, it had fallen flat, and her trousers were covered in dirt. Seara watched her, not able to utter a word. "He needs a healer. Please!"

One brother looked at the other, who nodded. They worked together to lift the unnamed boy, for the sake of keeping his body straight. He was rather skinny for his age, his face was incredibly dirty, and his short reddish hair was matted with blood. She imagined how different he would look cleaned up, if he ever got the chance. He was already unconscious again, and the Companion brothers hadn't looked very hopeful as they trudged away. As she watched them, she collapsed, and the tears came.

"Whoa!" Til nudged her. "What's this about? Everything is taken care of."

"I did it wrong! I did something wrong, I know it. I just have this feeling… there's something I missed."

"You did fine," Til affirmed. "It looked the same way it always did when you practiced, except more… real. You're just shocked by it. It happens to everyone."

"No… there's something else." She looked at the arrows, and decided to take them home to study, along with the piece of armor she had hastily undone from his body. She wiped away her tears and started the trek home, with Til at her side. She couldn't stand the thought of going to the temple and staring into the face she may have failed to save.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You can stare at those arrows all day if you want, but that doesn't mean anything is going to change."

Seara ignored Til's remark, her concentration unwavering.

"I don't understand fighting," she said. "These are so dangerous. Why do people want to even think about shooting them?"

"Protection? Hunting? There are plenty of reasons, Sea." Til picked up one of the arrows and turned it over in her hand, avoiding the tip, which was covered in now dry blood. "If I could get my hands on a bow, I'd be all over learning the skill. The sneakier you are, the better you kill."

Seara winced at the word. It felt strange to think about her best friend out in the wild, fighting others and killing animals to survive. She was grateful for the meat that was provided for her, but could never imagine killing the game herself, let alone another person. She finally turned away from the arrows, feeling disgusted.

As the afternoon turned into evening, the house began to feel colder, and the night air seemed especially uninviting. Til asked if it was alright for her to stay for the night and leave in the morning, simply to avoid traveling in such cold temperatures when it wasn't necessary. The days in Whiterun were wonderful, but the nights were unbearable without heat. Knowing there would be no problem, Seara agreed, and started a fire in the pit to keep the house warm and start a meal. She made enough for her parents, too, knowing they would be home late, and by the time the meal was finished cooking, her eyelids were heavy. The stress of helping the nameless boy at the foot of the mountains had finally caught up to her, and she was exhausted. She kept herself awake long enough to eat the food she'd made, but she and Til headed upstairs shortly afterward.

She took the arrows and stored them in the chest at the foot of her bed, careful to preserve the tips just the way she found them, in case some form of evidence proving that she had done something wrong decided to show itself. There were six arrows in all; she had found one that missed its target, and decided to take it as well. She stored it away from the others, careful to make sure it wouldn't get mixed in. At a glance toward the guest bed, she saw Til, already curled up and asleep. Crawling into her own bed, she quickly did the same.

Her dreams were filled with various recounts of what happened at the bandit camp, most of them incorrect. There were times when she refused to heal the young man at all, and there were times when she tried and failed. There was even a time when she'd been shot herself, and she woke up in a panic, quickly comforted by the sound of her father's voice.

It was floating up the stairs from the kitchen. She lay and listened to him for a while, talking to her mother. He spoke of the Jarl, and various rumors of an upcoming civil war. Were things in Skyrim honestly that bad? She didn't think so, but then again, she hadn't been far enough away from home to tell. Across the room, Til stirred.

Seara stood up and opened the chest to retrieve the clean arrow, and she heard Til groan.

"You're at it already?" She asked.

Ignoring her again, Seara hurried downstairs. She hid the arrow behind her back as she greeted her father with an odd one-sided hug, and when he asked her how things went the previous day, she decided to alter her story to mention what she had found.

"It was good," she started. "I found something on my walk from the marketplace." She carefully held out the arrow, pointing the tip at the floor.

"An ebony arrow?" Her mother questioned, sounding worried. "What made you pick this up?"

"It was interesting," she lied. "I've never seen anything other than steel or iron arrows used around here, and I thought maybe the guards would like to have it. It looks… different."

"These are incredibly rare," her father explained, taking the arrow. "Not to mention deadly. I'm not sure I want to know how it ended up so close to the city… but you're right, I'm sure the guards will. I've always wanted to get a look at one of these."

Til shuffled down the stairs as he was examining the tip, which was fashioned in a wavy sort of way, no doubt to deal extra damage to the enemy. She seemed to wake up faster at the prospect of talking about the weapon itself. It was a change from fretting and pacing around the room, wondering about the wounds it caused.

"I bet this would pierce through flesh as if it were paper," her father continued. He picked up a freshly harvested tomato, and demonstrated the sharpness of the tip by sending the arrow through it with virtually no effort. "Now imagine it flying at you."

"Wow," Til said in admiration. "I don't think I've ever seen anything that sharp."

"One of these costs more gold than you could carry in your pockets," he replied.

Seara felt sick. As she gazed at the tomato with the jet black arrow sticking out of it, she began to notice something strange. The skin was splitting away from the puncture, slowly but surely, and as it peeled, it started to wither. She was unable to hide her terror, and gasped.

"Drop that!" She yelled. Before the tomato hit the ground, she was scrambling for her shoes.

"Where are you going?" Her mother asked. She didn't bother to reply before running out the door.

Upon reaching the Temple of Kynareth, she shoved the doors open with all her might. She was stopped by a priestess, who told her that she was disturbing the sick and would only be asked once to calm herself.

"Is there a man here?" She asked. "Well, not really a man, but not a boy either. I think he was my age. He should have been brought here yesterday afternoon."

"Did Farkas and Vilkas bring him in?" The priestess inquired.

Seara didn't recognize the names, and must have looked bewildered, because the priestess went on to explain.

"They're Companion members," she said. "Twins."

"Yes! Yes, that was them! The young man in question… can I see him?"

"I'm afraid not," said the priestess. "When he arrived yesterday, we could find no trace of any wounds, only scarring and blood. But yet, something is taking him from this world. We've used our own healing potions on him, and even tried curing whatever disease might be ailing him, but he keeps slipping away. He appears to have no family in the area and hasn't been coherent enough to give us a name, or tell us his symptoms. It would be best to leave him be. We've done all we can at this point."

"No! It was me! I found him, and I did what I could to heal him, but I only know minor spells to close wounds, not completely heal them. He was shot. In the side, with arrows. I took them out and closed the wounds to stop the bleeding, but… I realized this morning that the arrows were poisoned. All I did was trap the poison in! Please, you have to let me see him."

"Poison?" The somber expression on the woman's face turned into one of fright as she continued. "Out of all of us, no one thought of that... he had no wounds to have been attacked with a poisoned weapon, but was much too battle-worn to spark the thought of a poisoned drink or meal... Please, forgive me." The doors behind them opened again, and Til walked through, immediately pointing a finger at the priestess.

"Let her see him," she demanded, knowing how difficult people of authority could be. "If you can't heal him, she can."

The priestess said nothing, and Seara walked across the room, leaving Til behind and looking for her target. She found him in the shadows, on one the most uncomfortable looking beds she'd ever seen, unattended to. Everyone must have assumed there was nothing more to do. She recognized him easily, because no one had even bothered to wash off his face. She was appalled at the treatment he had received, and nothing made her want to hone her restoration skills more. She promised herself that she would never leave her patients in this state, and then proceeded to the nearest cabinet, where she rummaged through the supplies. She found a cloth and a potion of cure poison, and walked back to him.

_First things first, _she thought. She would help him with the potion before anything else. She sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders to lift him up, and was taken aback by how warm he was. He was burning with fever, which wasn't a good sign. Even his breathing sounded labored. Once she got him to swallow the potion, all there was to do was wait and hope it worked. She only parted from his side to wet the cloth with cool water, and when she returned, she first pressed it to his forehead, and then started to clean the dirt off the rest of his face.

Before she could make any real progress, she felt him stir, and he turned his face away. She smiled, knowing what she had done was working, but was surprised when he spoke.

"Don't do that," he mumbled. "I'll worry about it myself. I don't do well with humiliation."

He rolled onto his side and fell back asleep, and she let out a soft laugh. She decided that she would leave him be at his request, but vowed to return the next day just to make sure everything was going smoothly.

"I'll be back tomorrow," she said, in case he could still hear her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for reading, if you've made it this far! If you haven't done so already, I would appreciate a review from you. As my first fanfic, this is more than slightly intimidating, and I'd like to hear how I'm doing. Thanks!**

_6 Years Later_

Despite the fire in front of her, Seara felt unbearably cold. She glanced around her tiny home, dreading the day ahead. If she could never leave, she would be content, but she had to work at the inn. Her parents had graciously bought her the Breezehome as a parting gift when she moved out from under their protection three years ago, which was something they had been planning to do for quite some time. She felt spoiled, having parents that would do such a thing, but would never forget the deed. Two years previously, however, her mother's life had been taken in the Battle for Whiterun, a product of what Seara felt was an unnecessary war.

Things were harder for her in the city after the civil war ended. She couldn't deny that the Stormcloak guards who were now in charge of keeping the city safe were doing their jobs. The city was virtually free of crime, but her naivety on matters of the world, life, and death had been thrown away. No matter how strict the guards were on crime, they couldn't protect the city from the threat of a dragon attack. _Dragons, _she thought to herself, still in disbelief. It had been nearly 4 years since they returned, terrorizing settlements and small towns, leaving the death tolls higher every day. The Jarl was good at keeping his men on watch, though, and a dragon had yet to come within reach of the city. She remembered when the Western Watch was destroyed. It was the closest the danger had ever been, but it felt like it was looming over her.

The crumbling tower to the west was a sign of hope for many, however ironic it may have been. The day the tower was destroyed, a dragon was killed. It had been one of the few that were rumored to have died. There were a total of six or seven in all, not many, when one thought about the crisis at hand. But each death had one thing in common; there was a man who was hunting them, who was said to be the only one who could put a dragon to rest permanently. He did so by absorbing the soul of each of the beasts he had slain, or so the story went. She shuddered at the fact that they were once dead and were being revived, and then felt bad for the man who had the burden of killing them placed upon his shoulders.

Her house was too quiet, and she felt lonely. Most women her age were either married or seeing someone, but she was neither. She never thought being alone would bother her, because at one time, there was nothing that made her sad. At twenty-four years old, Seara had never been in a relationship, simply because there was never a man that she was interested in. There were plenty that were interested in her, but it was a two-way road that she never started on. Til often teased her about it, though she wasn't married either. At least her job as a Companion kept her busy. Sweeping floors wasn't quite enough to take Seara's mind off anything. She glanced down at the letter in her lap, almost forgetting it was there. It was worn from how many times she'd read it, and because it was a habit to do so, she never gave opening it a second thought.

_Seara, _it said.

_I had to do an awful lot of searching around this place after I got cleaned up to find out who you were. I wanted to write this letter to tell you how much I appreciate you helping me out. I'm not much of an adventurer, and probably shouldn't have been where you found me, but here I am, alive to tell the tale. I would be dead if it wasn't for you, and I wish I could thank you in person, but like I told you earlier, I don't do well with humiliation. You were the best looking thing I'd ever seen when you knelt down beside me, and maybe it was because I was dying and you were there to help me, but after seeing you in the temple, my statement doesn't change._

_ I've stolen what potions I could carry (don't tell) and I'll be leaving Whiterun as soon as I finish writing. Because I know you're wondering, I'll be truthful with you; I'm not doing well, but well enough. If I fight hard, I'll make it home. And one day, when I've made a name for myself, I promise you, by Talos, that I will find you and thank you properly. I am honored to know you, and if I'm alive, I will one day know you more._

The letter was unsigned; perhaps it was his method of ensuring that she didn't track him down. He hadn't even given it to a courier. When she awoke that day, she found the letter outside, in her woven basket by the door. Every day since, she read it and wondered when he would return. Something about the thought of meeting him formally excited her, and therefore, no other man caught her attention. However, if he had tried to make a long journey in the condition she last saw him, it was very unlikely that he ever made it home.

She put the letter away in the drawer next to her, but could still see it fresh in her mind. She memorized it, and it was always there, though recently, it wasn't at the forefront of her thoughts. She could feel it slipping away as the years passed and it became less and less likely that he would return. There were many good men around, and she knew many of them personally. She vowed to herself that she would give them a chance, because she was beginning to feel that Til was right, and she was holding herself back for a lost cause. Standing, she drew her cloak tight around her shoulders and headed out the door.

The sun was setting, and the temperature was falling. It was only the Nords like herself that she saw walking home with minimal protection from the wind, and everyone else was covered in all sorts of furs in an attempt to keep their body heat in. But upon looking around, she noticed that the streets were strangely empty. Apart from a few stragglers, the usual bustle of the roads at sunset was absent. As she neared the end of the road, however, she quickly realized where everyone was.

The Bannered Mare sat behind a crowd of ten to twenty people, all talking animatedly to each other, but not going inside. She wondered if something had happened to Ysolda. After buying the inn from Hulda, she was stressed and flustered very often, and Seara figured maybe something was wrong. She reached into her satchel for the key, but when she reached the door, it was apparent that it wasn't locked at all, but overflowing.

"Sea!"

She turned around to see Til pushing her way through the crowd of people, and reached out to grab her hand and pull her over.

"What's going on here?" Seara asked, looking around. "How am I even supposed to sweep the floors of a place this crowded? It's never been like this before."

"You've never had anyone famous visit before either," Til said, beaming. She pushed the door open and they forced their way inside, but Seara didn't see anyone special. She caught sight of Ysolda, who looked extremely nervous.

"Don't even worry about it," Ysolda called out over the crowd. "You'll just have to clean once everything calms down!"

Seara nodded and looked over at Til, shaking her head.

"I don't see anyone I haven't seen before," she said. Til stood on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd. Her face brightened again when she found who she was looking for, and she extended her arm as much as she could without hitting anyone, pointing out in front of where they stood and a little to the right.

"Oh, this is the coolest!" She shuffled her feet excitedly. Seara craned her neck to look around, but was too short to see over most of the crowd. There was a loud whistle, and Ysolda was yelling.

"Hey! I need everyone's attention please!" She cleared her throat and raised her voice some more, and it was a bit humorous, due to her usually quiet demeanor. "I need everyone who isn't eating or staying the night to leave. We simply don't have enough room for this many people, and-" She was cut off as the crowd of people rushed toward her, all attempting to be the first in line to rent rooms and buy meals. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. It wasn't long before she had to refuse meals, and the rooms had all been rented hours ago. There was a guard seated at a table in a secluded corner, and at Ysolda's request, he began to usher people out. There were still over thirty people left when he stopped, but the air was breathable.

Most of the people that remained sat and talked with one another, shooting glances over at the man everyone was talking about. He was obviously skilled in some area of combat, which was shown by the dark red war paint that circled his eyes and then extended down the sides of his face. His hair, a darker version of his paint, was free and looked like it might reach his shoulders if it was completely flat. It was styled away from his face as if he'd raked it back with his fingers, looking jagged and wild, and there were two small braids down the side.

Dressed entirely in black, he was wearing some form of full-sleeved leather armor that had to have been dyed. It looked incredibly lightweight, and there were pockets in several places for concealing weapons, mostly on his torso. He reminded her of a thief and a mercenary all at once, and his whole appearance gave her the impression of something untamed. He caught her eye while he was telling a story to the few souls who were brave enough to speak to him, and she swiftly looked away.

"I think he saw me looking at him," she told Til nervously. "Am I supposed to know who he is?"

Til slumped over, letting her mouth hang open in disbelief.

"You're joking, right?" She asked hopefully. Seara shook her head. "Are you really that good at not caring about your surroundings? That's the Dragonborn!"

"Oh."

"Don't sound so excited," Til murmured.

"I'm not. I don't see what the big deal is. I actually feel kind of sorry for him."

"He's a _dragon _hunter! What do you mean you don't see what the big deal is? I can't even believe I'm having this conversation with you right now… I'm going to talk to him."

"Don't be stupid," Seara said, holding Til back. "You'll look like one of those desperate women standing there."

"Not if I ask about his fighting style, I won't. And I'm not about to be in the same room as the Dragonborn and leave without hearing his voice. They say he could kill me with his voice alone."

Seara said nothing. That didn't sound appealing to her at all, and was rather frightening.

"Are you… That is _so amazing!_" Til held out her hands in exasperation. _"_How did we become friends?" She turned on her heel and marched over to where the man stood, receiving several unpleasant looks from the women who were already there.

Seara watched from afar as he smiled, and Til gushed about something to do with weapons. She removed the hunting bow she was carrying from her back, and held it out. She was no doubt telling him all about how she'd crafted it herself under the instruction of Eorlund Grey-Mane, and painted the unique black and white design on it herself. It was a feat that she was most proud of, and her face turned red as he extended his hand for it. He held it up and drew it back without a readied arrow, testing it, and switching between a few different stances. Til mimicked his movements, determined to know all that he knew, and when he handed it back to her, it looked like he was commenting on its features.

Seara saw him look over in her direction again, followed by Til, who gave him a polite goodbye and returned. Her cheeks were still pink, and she couldn't stop smiling.

"He admires my bow," she said breathlessly. "He says I couldn't have crafted one better for myself, but he prefers one with more resistance. He actually _talked _to me about his style and preferences. Oh, and he asked about you."

"_Me?" _

"Yeah. He asked why I'd left you behind, and I told him you were nervous."

"Til!"

"What was I supposed to tell him?" she asked in a hushed voice. "That you could care less about anything he's done?"

The two of them looked back over at him, and he acknowledged them with a nod before dismissing himself from the other women still surrounding him.

"Is he coming over here?" Seara didn't want to talk to him. She just wanted to clean the floors and go home.

He wasn't headed toward them, but over to the bar instead. When he walked, his head was held up in confidence and his shoulders were back. He was of average size for a man, with the muscular build of a warrior or mercenary. He lacked the clanky movements of most male Nords in their bulky and heavy armor, and was instead very fluid in his motions. Sitting down next to another empty seat, he said something to Ysolda, who disappeared behind the counter and stood up again, placing two bottles of mead in front of him. Seara could tell from across the room that the label on the bottle was Black-Briar. Just as she was thinking he had expensive taste, he turned around on the stool and motioned to her.

She pointed at herself, as if to clarify that he was asking for her, and he gave her a mischievous smile.

"Gods, Seara," Til whispered. "If you mess this up because of that ridiculous letter, I swear I will never talk to you again."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**A/N: I love this chapter. It's shorter than some of the others, but dialogue is one of my favorite things to write, and I enjoyed writing the conversation between Seara and the Dragonborn. I hope you like it just as much!**

Step by small step, Seara pushed herself forward. Her feet felt heavy, and she wished she could turn around and run out the door. She supposed she could, but she'd been raised on better manners than that, and she assumed manners mattered when it came to men too. They did… didn't they? She was twenty-four years old, and still had no idea how to have a conversation with a man over anything other than business. Til had wished her luck and slipped out the door, saying something about heading back to Jorrvaskr, and now she was on her own. Her face felt hot.

Maybe the gods had some sort of sense of humor as they looked upon her, or the daedra were fooling with her. She couldn't remember doing anything wrong that would provoke them. The only thing she could think of was vowing earlier that she would forget about the letter and move on... Maybe this odd situation was her first shot. Her appearance suddenly mattered infinitely more to her, and she combed through her hair with her fingers. _I'm being ridiculous, _she thought. _He could just want to ask me a question, or talk to me. _The smile on his face as he looked back at her indicated that he was more than slightly amused at her obvious nerves, and the fact that he could tell she was nervous made her even more so.

"_Drem yo lok, brit,_" he said as she gingerly sat down beside him. His voice was strong, and she thought of what Til said earlier, about the powers it held. He slid one of the bottles of mead over to her, and she stared at it, then at him, realizing that he'd bought it for her and she hadn't understood a word he just said.

"What?"

She already felt like an idiot. Did he just speak to her in a totally different language, or did she mishear him? He gave a soft laugh, looking down at his drink.

"I said hello," he explained. He looked at her, and she noticed for the first time that his face was scruffy. "Mostly."

She wondered what he meant by mostly.

"Oh, hello," she said back, feeling worse about herself by the second. She looked over at Ysolda, who was preoccupying herself with washing plates, obviously to avoid looking as though she was eavesdropping. There was a long pause before he spoke again. He was probably expecting her to say something else.

"You have a name, I'm assuming?"

"Yes," she said. He smiled again after she didn't continue right away, flashing his teeth. She was glad he was having a good time watching her flounder for her words, at least. Her voice was small as she continued, almost nothing compared to his. "It's Seara. I work here… but it was too crowded to do any cleaning when I arrived." What was the point of her telling him that?

"I suppose that's my fault," he replied after taking a drink. Seara realized she hadn't even touched hers, and brought it closer to her politely. She couldn't believe how relaxed he was around her, and everyone else, for that matter. "So, what kind of name is Seara?" The question sounded almost rude, and she wasn't sure how to answer it.

"What kind of—what do you mean?"

"Oh, I didn't mean as a way to tease you. I'm genuinely interested in what the meaning of your name is. Most people inherit their names from somewhere or someone else, and I just want to know where yours came from."

Seara finally took a drink, hoping it would supply her with some sort of courage.

"Well," she said, feeling slightly more relaxed. "Before my father met my mother, he was a sailor on the Katariah."

"The emperor's ship?" asked the Dragonborn, raising his eyebrows.

"The very same." She smiled for the first time since she'd sat down. "When he met my mother, he chose to leave that life, and they built a house together so they would have a place to settle down. When they had me, he told everyone that my eyes reminded him of the sea." She became embarrassed again, knowing that she'd just openly invited him to look at her eyes. When he did, she chose to examine his too, if only for a way to avoid looking elsewhere. They were a dark green, reminding her of the pine trees that grew on the sides of the mountains.

"The seas bordering Skyrim are cold and uninviting," he stated. "He must've been remembering the waters on the south side of Tamriel."

She laughed, surprised at herself.

"I would think you'd have a name too," she said quietly.

"Yes," he replied. When he stopped at that, she knew he was poking fun at her.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Hmm. Respectfully, I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

"Come on."

"Honestly," he said. "I really am sorry. I wish I had the liberty of doing so. I can count the number of people who know my name on one hand." He held up a hand and moved his fingers. "Out of those five people, I've only willingly told one. Most people refer to me as the Dovahkiin, Dragonborn. Everyone knows who that name refers to, and I'm alright with keeping things that way. With enemies like mine, one can't be overly cautious."

"But I told you my name," Seara objected. "If I could, now I would take it back. That's unfair."

"And if I could, I would give the knowledge back when you asked for it. Tell you what… if you get to know me well enough, I'll tell you my name."

"How well is that?" Seara asked.

"I'll decide." He finished his bottle of mead and pushed it aside. "Starting now."

"Don't you have places to be and lives to save?" Seara half joked. "What do you actually do, anyway? Besides hunt dragons, I mean. They aren't around all the time."

"They certainly aren't," he answered. "And when they aren't, I'm really just a glorified errand boy. I get to control my schedule, so that's nice. I recently acquired a contract nearby, and I've decided I like it here, so I'll take my time. What I do, well… When people need something, I know how to get it. Whether it's been hidden away for centuries, just across town, or… already owned, I'm your guy."

"A thief."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. So what does the maid who works for the Bannered Mare do for fun?"

"I'm not a maid," Seara said defensively.

"I'm not a thief."

"Fair enough." She twisted the bottle around, examining the label while she thought. What _did_ she do for fun? "Well… I make things. Primarily baskets."

"Baskets."

"I also practice restoration magic," she said, feeling like she may have redeemed herself slightly.

"A mage? Are you any good at it?"

"I've been told in the past year that I'm the best healer Whiterun has seen in recent times. Of course, that was by someone I'd recently healed, so I don't take that to mean very much."

They sat and watched the bard grow tired, taking turns commenting on each mistake he made in his lyrics and musical notes. With all the customers who had come and gone, he'd gotten more requests than usual, and was nearly at the end of his abilities for the night. Other people approached them to say goodnight, and eventually it was much quieter in the small building than when Seara had arrived.

"Have you ever practiced destruction magic?" The Dragonborn asked, after the poor bard retired to his room.

"Oh no," she said. "Fighting isn't really my thing."

"At all? What if you had to defend yourself?"

The question made her think. There hadn't ever been a time when she felt like she would need to, but with all that was happening in the present days, she could see his point. The idea was still unappealing, however. He took her silence as the answer.

"You live within the city walls?"

"Straight down the road a way."

"I think you should let me take you there," he said. "It's dark, and you just openly admitted that you have no way of protecting yourself."

"You don't need to do that. There are guards patrolling the streets, and I have to stay and sweep up this mess anyway." She looked around at the floor, which was messier than she'd ever seen it. She was also shocked to see how empty the inn was. There were only a few people left milling about, and most of them looked to be honest travelers. How long had she been sitting there?

"Go ahead and leave," Ysolda said kindly. "I'll take care of the dire things tonight, and you can get the rest in the morning."

"Thank you," Seara said sincerely. It was very nice of Ysolda to offer such a thing, but she was beginning to feel inwardly odd again. She was hoping the Dragonborn would just eventually retire to his room, and she could walk home in peace, clearing her head like she usually did. Instead, she was making her way to the door with him at her side.

The night was frigid, and a light breeze was making things worse. The bushes near the entrance rustled in the wind as she walked past them and down the steps. She stopped when she reached the bottom, noticing that no one was following her.

He'd stopped at the top of the steps, looking curiously at the bushes under the window. A small smile formed on his lips, and he whispered.

"_Laas yah nir."_

A chill rippled through Seara's body, and she shivered. It was the most peculiar feeling, similar to wind, but as if his words had actually gone through her.

"I know you're there, _mal kendov," _he said. He stuck his foot in the bushes, tapping his boot on something. Upon being summoned, an embarrassed and guilty looking Til popped her head up.

"Goodnight," she said sheepishly, standing up and brushing herself off. He removed a leaf from her hair, and she turned to walk away with more dignity that she should've had.

They continued down the road together, and after a period of silence and much thought, she decided to speak.

"What did you just do?" she asked. "You whispered something, and I felt it… in me. Then you said something else I couldn't understand. I don't even recognize the language."

"My apologies," he said. "Sometimes I speak in the language of the Dov_,_ and I forget that most people don't know what I'm saying. It comes naturally to me now. I usually don't even realize when I do it. I called your friend a little warrior."

"It's fitting."

"The other thing," he began again, "is harder to explain. The ancient language I speak is filled with power untapped by most. It builds within the dovah and the Dovahkiin, ready to be used once the knowledge of it is gained. Others who wish to learn must study for years to even understand the concept… there are men who have dedicated their lives to such studies. The best way for me to describe it, I think, would be to tell you that the dragons attacking the cities of Skyrim are doing it with their voices. You could say I'm the same."

"Can you really do all that?"

"Everything they've been seen doing, and some things they haven't." He was silent for a few steps, knowing he had intimidated her. "Do you know what I do for fun?"

"Slay dragons?" She guessed.

"Ah, _nid_." He grimaced and wrinkled his nose. "No. That isn't fun at all."

Seara found herself surprised at his statement, even though it made complete sense. There couldn't have been much to enjoy about getting so close to a thing of that size, with that much power, knowing it was going to attempt to kill everything in its surroundings.

"Though there's a sense of accomplishment that comes with it," he said, "it's driven away by the even greater sense of guilt. If I am Dovahkiin, born with the blood of a mortal man and the soul of a dovah, then we are the same. It's the feeling of being driven to murder your family, knowing there's no other way around the terrible things they've done."

Seara winced at the thought, and once again felt sorry for this man. If she was already feeling it before, it was doubled. Her insight into his world through the descriptions he gave was enough, and she couldn't imagine living the life he led.

"No," he said. "For fun, I wander."

Upon reaching her home, she placed a hand on the doorknob, and turned to look at him.

"Thank you for walking with me," she said. In truth, he was interesting, but not at all in the way Til saw him. She was relieved to be home, and was ready to be in bed.

"_Praan,_" he responded. "Rest. Maybe I'll see you again, _brit okaaz miin."_

"What does that mean?" She asked, curious.

He smiled at her and turned away without answering.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**A/N: I am absolutely ECSTATIC at the number of positive reviews I've gotten, all within 24 hours. You guys are so awesome, and I'm glad to be sharing this with you! It's good to finally be able to use my basic knowledge on the language of Skyrim's dragons. I've been holding that in for a while. ;)**

Seara lay in bed the next morning, curled up on her side and hugging her blanket close to her. It was made out of various animal pelts, in a quilted pattern, and she was proud of it. She'd never owned anything warmer. When she made it, she put together two separate quilts of furs, and had sewn them together so it was thicker, and the fur was on both sides of the blanket. She padded the inside with various articles of clothing that had been donated to her, and then closed the whole thing up. It was heavy and soft, and she never wanted to leave her bed.

She remembered what Ysolda had told her last night, and sighed. The inn awaited her again this morning, and it seemed so much less inviting than her bed. With great effort, she hauled herself upright and managed to get ready for the day.

"Hello, Ysolda," she said upon entering the inn. "I'm sorry about leaving you with such a mess to look at last night."

Ysolda gave her an impish grin over her shoulder as she wiped off the bar. She turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"You were preoccupied with other things," she teased. "I understand."

"I wasn't preoccupied," Seara objected. "I would have gladly stayed had you told me I needed to. Actually, I would've stayed even if you didn't, but you went and told me to leave. My bed is too inviting to pass on an offer like that."

"Obviously," Ysolda said, refolding the rag she was using.

"What..? Oh. _Oh_." Seara felt her face turning red, and she actually took a step back. "No. I didn't… I mean, we didn't… He only escorted me home."

"If you say so. It took him a terribly long time to return." Where had he gone?

"I swear, Ysolda, he wasn't with me. I'm not like that."

"Like what? Everyone is like that," Ysolda laughed. "It just depends on the circumstances."

Seara grabbed the nearest broom, feeling humiliated.

"You have my story," she said. "Where is he?"

"Upstairs," Ysolda replied. "Unless he slipped out without my noticing, he's still asleep. I'm surprised there aren't more people here this morning."

"I'm sure everyone has gotten their fill of the Dragonborn, and saw no reason to return this morning. This broom is the reason I'm here this morning." Seara held up the broom, making sure Ysolda saw her. There was truly no other reason.

She worked her way around the room, making sure she swept up every last bit of filth from the previous night, but working faster than she usually did to avoid a possible unwanted confrontation. When she was almost done, the door burst open and Till ran in, looking slightly crazed. As she approached, she drew a deep breath, and then expelled many different statements at once.

"I ran to your house but you weren't there, and then I ran to the farm but you weren't there either, so I ran back here and you're here but you aren't supposed to be here and Farkas challenged me at target practice this morning and I lost, all because I saw you leaving the inn last night with the Dragonborn." She took a breath. "In the direction of your _house._ Why are you here?"

Seara stared at her blankly.

"Do you spy on me often?" she asked.

"No but why are you _here_? And I can't believe you left with-"

"Nothing happened," Seara interrupted, feeling annoyed. "He walked me home because he's convinced that I can't take care of myself on a dark street."  
>"He's right," Til said, taking a bite out of an apple that had been sitting within reach. Ysolda shot her a look, and she shrugged. "I'll pay for it," she promised.<p>

"I'm usually right," came a strong voice from behind them. The Dragonborn was standing at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He had all of his armor on again, along with a bow and quiver on his back, and a sword and dagger hanging from his belt.

"Gods," Til whispered, freezing halfway through bringing the apple to her mouth. She sat a single gold piece on the bar for Ysolda, and quickly walked to the door, looking as if she was still slightly embarrassed from being caught the previous night.

"_Mal kendov," _the Dragonborn called out to her. She turned around, startled. He motioned her back to where they stood, and held out a number of delicately crafted arrows. "Little warrior. You have the body of a woman, but the heart and soul of the bravest Nord men as they march into battle. Today, I part for Rorikstead. I wanted you to have these before I left. There are twelve, and I made them myself." She reached out for them with a shaking hand, mesmerized by their beauty. Before she grabbed them, she stopped and looked at him.

"Are they made out of glass?" she asked. They shone peculiarly in the light from the fire.

"They are," he said. "They're also enchanted. Don't waste them on petty target practice sessions, _grohiik kiir."_

"What does that mean? …_Grohiik kiir."_

"_Grohiik _means wolf, and _aan_ _kiir_ is a child," he explained in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "When translating literally, anyway. The smooth translation of the Dov would be 'child of wolves.'"

Seara admired the nickname; it was fitting for her best friend's wild and fierce attitude. Til's eyes widened as she looked up at him in wonder. She looked as if he'd done something amazing and terrible at the same time, as if he'd read her mind or seen into her soul.

"There's true beauty in the language you speak," she said quietly, her voice breaking.

"Take the arrows, _grohiik,_ and be careful of the tips. Use them only when you must; they won't simply injure your target. _Nid, _use these when you aim to kill."

"I am in debt to you," she said, finally taking the arrows with an expression of awe on her face. Her eyes began to fill with tears.

"You owe me nothing. Remember your worth, my _briinah, _my _fahdon. _My sister, my friend."

"Thank you, Dovahkiin."

He nodded, and smiled at her use of the language. She turned once more to leave and wiped her eyes as she went, speechless.

"Did you make those just for her?" Seara asked. "She seemed shocked by it. You made her cry. With Til, that's hard to do." She laughed, and he averted his eyes.

"I did make them," he answered, looking down at his boots. "Last night, after we parted ways." So that's where he'd gone. She threw a glare at Ysolda.

"You're leaving?" she questioned when she looked back at him. She felt relieved at the idea.

"Only for a short time. I've gotten my hands on the item I was asked to retrieve, and I need to take it back to Rorikstead. The journey should take two days at most, if I choose not to travel at night." He walked past her, making his way to the bar. "I'm getting restless. Whiterun is the most opportune location for me at the moment, with what I've been ultimately tasked with… but it's not wise for me to linger in one place too long."

He thanked Ysolda for her hospitality, apologizing for indirectly ruining her inn the night before, and looked over his shoulder at Seara.

"Walk with me," he said. She followed him outside, and he turned to her at the top of the steps. "Don't go on some grand adventure while I'm gone, _brit okaaz miin._"

"You never told me what that meant," she told him. "And why would I go on any sort of adventure at all? You said it yourself. I can't protect myself. There's no way I would go anywhere I wasn't familiar with."

"Beautiful sea eyes," he said, concentrating on her. Her cheeks flushed, and she suddenly became very interested Fralia Grey-Mane's marketplace stand. "Going somewhere you're not familiar with doesn't always require physical travel. Rest your mental feet while I'm away. I want to adventure with you when I return."

She stared at him. He'd just told her he wanted to take her somewhere she had never been before, but without going anywhere at all. If she was correct in her assumptions, he'd just admitted that he wanted her to open her heart. How was she expected to respond to such a statement?

"If you're coming back to Whiterun to pursue me, you shouldn't bother," she said.

"If I took all the advice given to me on a daily basis, I would be dead. I'm used to ignoring statements that include the words 'don't bother.'"

"I'm being serious. Your life is important, and my life has nothing. I don't open my heart to men like you. I never have. I'm not entirely sure why I can't do it, but I'm happy just the way I am."

"I'm glad you're happy, _okaaz miin,_ but you can't judge the effect something will have on you until it's happened. Let me show you. There's nothing I want more." He was definitely sincere, she thought. "If your heart doesn't open easily, I'll just have to try harder. It's been a while since I've been challenged, and I'm ready, _brit._"

He raised his fist to his heart in a Nordic salute, but Seara did not return it. All the women who gushed about being pursued suddenly seemed idiotic. She didn't want this, and intended to make it clear. As she watched him walk away, she was fuming. Once she could no longer stand the sight of him, she turned and stalked off in the direction of Jorrvaskr, knowing that Til would listen to her, albeit probably wouldn't have the same opinion on the matter.

She found Til sitting on the grassy hill outside the hall, with her knees drawn up to her chest. She was looking off in the direction of Dragonsreach, and the slight breeze was blowing her hair around. Farkas sat by her side, though neither of them was speaking. She saw the arrows in Til's hand, and then noticed her shoulders were shaking. She was crying; her breath was coming out in odd patterns, causing her to hyperventilate, and tears were freely falling down her face. Her usually sharp features looked puffy, and her hair was a mess. Seara thought it was strange that she had been affected so much by the Dragonborn's gift to her, and had to refrain from telling her to get a hold of herself.

"Til…?"

She jumped at the sound of her name being called, and when she turned her head, she began to cry even harder. These weren't ordinary tears, let alone tears of joy. She was having some sort of an anxiety attack, and her breathing sounded so uncomfortable that Seara was unsure if she should approach her further. It was obvious that Farkas was only there as a form of mentor. He wasn't making any attempts to comfort her.

"What's wrong?" Seara asked, concerned.

Til made a high pitched and frustrated noise, slamming her hands into the ground. She let go of the arrows and began to rip up fistfuls of grass, her sobs turning into odd and forced laughs. She stood up, looking angry. Farkas picked up her arrows and quickly stood as well, ready to follow her. He put his hands on her shoulders and made her look at him, saying something Seara couldn't hear.

"No," Til said. "I'm fine. Seara…" Her eyes were closed as she addressed her, concentrating as hard as she could on keeping her words steady. "I love you. But right now, I need you to leave me alone."

Confused and somewhat hurt by her words, Seara let them be.

She was unable to find any comfort in Til, and as it turned out, she wasn't able to find any peace in her own house either. There was a small parcel on her doorstep, and when she took it inside to open it, she found a dazzling silver necklace. There was a red jewel in the center, a ruby, and two small diamonds on the side. She knew immediately where it had come from by looking at the craftsmanship, and it was beautiful, but she couldn't bear to look at it. Even as she held it, she felt the magic within herself stir. Judging by the way it made her feel, it was directly affecting her ability in restoration. She wished she could wear it without feeling like she was giving in. She carefully set it on the table and turned away from it, deciding to lie down. Seara despised days filled with nothing, but couldn't think of any other way to ease her mind.

When she awoke, she was surprised to find that she'd slept most of the day away, and it was nearly evening. Deciding she might as well do something productive with the remaining hours, she started to work on one of her unfinished baskets. Every few seconds, however, she found herself glancing over at the necklace on the table, and eventually, she couldn't take it anymore. Desperate for a place to go that would allow her to rest and be herself again, she set out for the farm. The sky was dark and the air was humid, and she delighted in the smell of oncoming rain. There was nothing better than sitting with her father and listening to the sound of the rain in the quiet farmhouse, and she picked up her pace so she could get there before it started. She was watching the torchbugs light up around her when someone grabbed her from behind, dragging her. Her vision went dark as something was put over her head, and she felt herself slammed up against the cold city walls. A man's deep voice spoke close to her ear.

"The Dark Brotherhood says hello."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"If you scream, I will put an arrow through your throat. If you struggle, I will put my dagger through your heart. Do as I say."

Seara whimpered, and the man squeezed her upper arm tighter. It was painful, and she knew it would bruise. If there was any blood left in her for it to do so, she thought.

She followed his forceful lead blindly, stumbling due to her inability to see where she was going, and tripped often. The man became more and more careless about how much he was hurting her, and her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest. The Dark Brotherhood. Til used to tell her scary stories about them when they were younger, and Seara knew there were those who still believed they existed, but she had always thought of the organization as just that… a story. Who would have contacted the Dark Brotherhood to dispose of her? She'd never harmed anyone, let alone done anything she believed would cause an anger that ran so deep it constituted murder.

She walked for what seemed like ages, and had no sense of the direction she was headed. After a while, some sort of thick brush was scraping against her, occasionally catching her dress. Somewhere, a wolf howled. She thought they must've been in a forest, and tried to remember the nearest one. It certainly wasn't close. But why would someone who was looking to assassinate her drag her so far and demand that she did as he said? In all the stories she'd heard of Dark Brotherhood assassinations, the target was shot from hundreds of feet away with a well placed arrow, or had their throat slit before they even knew anyone was following them.

All the breath left her body at once when she was thrown to the ground, flat on her back. She gasped and coughed, feeling like her lungs were too small. The man placed a foot on her chest near her throat, holding her down, and removed the hood from her head. She saw a dark figure standing over her, and his body blended too well with the night. The only thing that stood out about him was the dagger he pointed at her face, shining in the light from the moon that filtered through the thickening clouds and passed through the trees. He knelt beside her and pushed the weapon to her throat, his face uncomfortably close to her own. The nauseating scent of blood was on his breath.

"How unfortunate for you," he started in a low and mocking voice. "Someone was in the wrong place at the wrong time, I think."

"What do you want?" Seara whispered, still hardly able to breathe. She knew the fear she felt was showing through her eyes.

"Not you, that's for sure. I want what you know."

"About what?" She spit her words, wishing she had the strength to challenge this man, but knowing she was helpless.

"I'm tracking down a target, and it's a big one. I've recently been tipped that you," he pushed his knee into her collarbone, "might know where he is. You've been spotted talking with the Dragonborn, you lucky, lucky girl. Just like you were old friends."

"We're not," she said, wincing. No matter how much she currently disliked him, she didn't want him killed. "I met him one time, and I talked to him like a stranger. Leave me."

"You're lying to me."

"You don't deserve the truth."

He snarled at her, putting the slightest bit more pressure on the blade at her throat, and she panicked.

"You understand how important he is, don't you? A big name guy. I can't fail this contract, girl." A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. The rain was moving in. "It's quite easy, really. You give me the information, and you'll be rewarded greatly. You refuse to comply, and I show the Dragonborn your head before I take his."

A drop of rain hit Seara's cheek as she made a split second decision. She was in no way indebted to him, and valued her own life. But she hesitated. Who's life was more important, hers or his? She thought back to their earlier conversation on the steps of the inn.

_Your life is important,_ she'd said,_ and my life has nothing._

She willed herself to be brave, but as the words escaped her lips, they were not.

"Rorikstead," she told him, as all the respect she had for herself slipped through her fingers.

"Ahh, there it is. What a good help you've been. As promised, you'll be rewarded." He still hadn't sheathed his dagger.

"I don't want your reward."

"You don't deserve it either," he said. "But for helping out the Dark Brotherhood, you've earned yourself a permanent place at the side of the Nightmother, an eternity we all long for. Congratulations… now it's time to send you to Her."

"No!" Seara kicked him, and he bared his teeth at her. "You told me you would let me go if I told you the truth!"

"I said no such thing. I told you I would reward you, traitor. At your betrayal of the man everyone praises, She is pleased." He repositioned the dagger, and looked into her eyes. "Hail Si-"

He coughed, and she scrambled away from him as his blood spattered her upper body. He was frozen with a look of terror on his face, and out of nowhere, his body erupted in flames. It was like they shot out of his every pore as he screamed. He fell forward, his body still burning, and Seara stared at the corpse, bewildered. The rain began to fall harder, extinguishing the body, but a delicately crafted glass arrow stuck out of his back, still alight with fire. As she lifted her head up to examine her surroundings, her eyes fell on Til, poised with her bow drawn and ready to strike again, her shoulders rising and falling as she drew breath. Her face was pale, but her expression was fierce.

"Run," she commanded. "There are wolves."

Seara struggled to her feet, feeling dizzy and horrified, and began to run as fast as her feet would allow. She stopped only briefly to examine a sign pointing in the direction of Whiterun, and followed the path it pointed to. The woods she found herself in were on the path to Ivarstead, far from home, but she continued without hesitation. There were pained howls and yelps in the distance, and she knew Til must have been putting the end to a pack of wolves. She thanked the gods that she had a friend who knew how to fend for herself, and kept running. She had confidence in Til, and knew she would show up at her doorstep later that night, where they would talk about everything, and things would be set straight. But right now, her only goal was to make it home before anything- or anyone- else came after her.

As she neared the city, she was soaked. She calmed herself, hoping not to attract any attention; there was no one she could trust anymore. Someone nearby had ties with the Dark Brotherhood, and who knew what else was lurking within the walls? She hated the feeling of her new paranoia while she entered her house and locked the door behind her, feeling her body begin to break down. She attempted to make her way to the bed, but her shaky legs wouldn't hold her anymore, and she collapsed near the stairs, trembling.

Sometime in the morning, she awoke feeling cramped and uncomfortable, still on the floor where she fell. Her eyes were sore from crying, and it took her them a while to adjust.

"Are you awake?"

She turned to see Til stoking the fire, wrapped in her thick fur blanket. Her face was cut and bruised, and her hair was damp and smeared with mud.

"How did you get in here?" she asked.

"You never answered the door when I knocked early this morning, so I picked your lock. I hope you don't mind, since it's just me." This did nothing to ease Seara's paranoia. Til sat down in the chair in front of the fire, bringing her legs up to her chest again, and due to the blanket, looking like a mass of fur with a head. "Why are you on the floor?"

"I'm not sure," Seara replied honestly. Her voice became small. "I'm scared."

"The world is a scary place," Til muttered. "You never know who'll turn on you."

The words made Seara hurt. She'd turned on the Dragonborn in the woods, whether the assassin had escaped or not.

"Thank you, Til. For everything. I would be dead if you hadn't been there."

"I know. Why was the Dark Brotherhood after you?"

"They weren't," Seara explained. "They were looking for the Dragonborn. He asked me where he went."

"That's a horrifying thought, Sea. He's the only one who can stop these dragons from destroying Skyrim. I can't imagine who would want such a thing… it's a good thing you didn't say anything."

"I did. Til… I told."

Til looked at her blankly, as if she was unable to comprehend what Seara had just told her.

"Well then," she said, "I guess it's a good thing I had those arrows with me still."

"You were brave to do that." Seara felt ashamed that she was so incapable of bravery. She couldn't fight, she didn't hold her ground, and she wasn't even brave enough to love. She wouldn't even try. "And staying behind to fight those wolves was amazing to me. Sometimes… I wish I could be you."

Til stared into the fire. She said nothing.

There was a long pause before Seara stood up and walked to the chair next to hers. She caught sight of the necklace she'd placed on the table between them, and Til followed her gaze.

"So why aren't you wearing it?" She asked.

"I can't. Especially after last night."

"Seara… please don't fool yourself. That letter is still in the drawer of this table right here, and you still hope for a visit from the one who wrote it. Let me tell you something. Lives change, and sometimes they end. Yours could have ended tonight, and you know it. Why don't you see that? Why do you wait? Your life has changed, and if he's even alive, his has too. Things don't always end up how you thought they would." A tear rolled down her cheek again, and she partially uncovered herself from the blanket, revealing her mostly shredded clothing, and several more cuts. As she moved, she winced. Her muscles were sore. "Look at me. I didn't fight any wolves back there. There's a reason for the Dragonborn's nicknames. _Grohiik kiir _is a play on words, because he's smart. It was just another way of saying moon born, without revealing my secret to the whole inn. He made it sound like a clever nickname to you, didn't he? But he could tell what I was before I ever even mentioned it."

Seara took in her best friend's appearance, not capable of understanding how she never knew.

"You could've told me," she said.

"Just like you could have lied to that assassin. But you didn't, did you?"

"I had a blade at my throat-"

"If anyone found out what I was, I would have the blades of _entire holds_ at mine!" Til's voice shook in anger. "I can usually hold in my transformations. It's been a year since I joined the Circle, and I'm getting better, but I've been struggling recently. It'd been too long since my last hunt, and he could tell. Just by looking at me. And do you remember what he did? He told me not to forget my worth. He called me his friend. No one who knows someone with lycanthropy will do that. When you approached me by Jorrvaskr, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wanted to rip you apart. My best friend." She closed her eyes. "That doesn't deserve acceptance. But he's a good man, the best I've ever known, and we only just met him_. That_ is why I cried. I can tell how he feels about you. It's obvious… and you're throwing it away over your past!"

"If I don't love him, I can't pretend I do."

"No one told you to pretend. Loving someone isn't supposed to happen on sight. It's obvious that you still live according to the stories you were read as a child. Love is knowing someone inside and out, even if it takes years, and always wanting to learn more. It might not ever happen between you, but all I'm saying is to give it a chance. You don't _know_ the boy from the bandit attack. You don't even _know_ if he's alive. I don't have anyone in my life who wants to know me that badly, Sea, but when I do, you can guarantee I won't let my paltry past get in the way."

Til stood to leave, and Seara stopped her.

"Wait. At least let me heal you before you go. Please?"

"No," Til said. "I'm a Companion, a Circle member and a werewolf, and we show our battle scars proudly. I am what I am."

"This doesn't change anything, you know. Except for maybe the number of baths you take."

Til smiled, and Seara had never been more happy to see her do so. She offered to let her take her cloak to cover up with, and she gratefully accepted before lifting her head high and starting her triumphant march across town.

If Til could face the suspicious stares of a whole city, Seara could wear a necklace.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Ask me anything. I'll be truthful with you."

Seara pondered the question as she sat on a mossy rock, dangling her feet in the cool water of a narrow creek. The Dragonborn stood across from her and was cleaning and testing his bow, occasionally turning around to scan the horizon. It was clear that he loved being outdoors, while she felt uncomfortable with her surroundings and was trying hard not to show it. It had been two days since his return from Rorikstead, and she thought maybe he'd given up on speaking to her until he showed up that morning, wanting to show her something. The creek and its surroundings were nice, but they weren't the only things he was talking about. He wanted to wander.

"What's your name?"

"Except that."

"You said you would answer anything!"

"No, I said you could ask me anything, and I would tell you the truth. I'm being very truthful in the fact that I don't want to tell you my name."

She sighed. If he wasn't the only thing making her feel safe, she would walk home out of frustration with him. He was confusing her; she wasn't sure if she hated being around him now, or if she enjoyed it. As she found herself leaning slightly toward the latter, she wished she still had a mother to talk to.

"Okay," she said. "Then tell me about where you come from."

He contemplated her request for several moments, trying to decide how best to proceed. Putting his bow away, he sat down on the opposite side of the water, facing her. He picked up a stick and began to poke at the mud as he spoke.

"Well, I was born in Windhelm."

"Really? I hear it's especially snowy there."

"It is."

There was an awkward silence between them, and he laughed.

"What else?" Seara asked.

"There isn't much. I don't remember my parents at all. They were killed outside the city when I was very young, and I grew up under the care of a woman in Bruma."

"Bruma?" She questioned. "Isn't that in Cyrodiil?"

He nodded.

"I'm sorry about your parents," she said.

"Never apologize for something you haven't caused. I'm willing to share more, if you're willing to ask."

"Alright, if I can't know your name, then who are the five people that do?"

"Why? So you can threaten it out of them?"

"Don't tempt me."

He held up his right hand as he began to count them off.

"There's the woman who raised me until I was sixteen, an Imperial soldier who interrogated me after my arrest upon being recognized as suspicious when I re-entered Skyrim, Arngeir—the Greybeard I considered to be my mentor as I learned to use my _thu'um_, a woman named Delphine from Riverwood, and Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak."

Seara was amazed at the number of questions that flooded her mind after he answered her. She wondered who, out of the five, he'd told willingly. She remembered him saying there had only been one, and she mentally scolded herself when she realized she was hoping it wasn't the woman from Riverwood. Again, her thoughts confused her.

"You know Ulfric Stormcloak personally? How?"

"I fought for him. I still fight for him. He's a good man."

Seara disagreed.

"He ordered an attack on Whiterun. My mother was killed during that battle, and she wasn't even fighting. She was healing… she healed soldiers from both sides. Her heart was huge, and it meant nothing to anyone except me when the arrows were flying. Is Ulfric the one you willingly shared your name with?"

"He is, actually. But listen, _okaaz miin._ I was not fighting in your streets. I refused. I negotiated with your Jarl, but I did not fight." He was sincere, and she felt sorry for lashing out at him. "If your mother was anything like you, I would have loved to know her."

"We were very similar," Seara began. She loved the feeling she got when she talked about her mother. It made it feel less like she was gone. "She loved magic. She was skilled in many different schools, but restoration was always her favorite. She had a passion for helping others, and restoration was the best way to do it. We even had a guest bed in the house on the farm for travelers who found themselves tired, injured or sick. She was an inspiration to me. I guess you could say that's why I started to practice restoration magic for myself… I learned so much when she was alive. I mean, I'm still learning now, but I have no one around to show me how to do it anymore."

The Dragonborn stood and scanned the horizon again, but this time, it looked like he was searching for something rather than making sure they were safe. His eyes locked onto something in the distance, and narrowed.

"Sometime, I'd like to see what you can do." He pulled his bow out again, loading it with an arrow. "And by sometime, I mean I want you to show me right now."

"What? But there's no one around to heal," Seara said.

"Sure there is." He raised the bow up, drew it back, and took a breath as he steadied his arm. When he released, the arrow shot forth with full force, and he immediately readied another one. There was a loud roar in the distance, and several hundred feet away, a bear began to barrel toward them.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" She screamed. "You're absolutely _insane!"_

He ignored her and shot two more arrows, looking absurdly confident. Seara readied herself to run, but he yelled at her.

"No, stay here!"

He stood his ground as the bear got closer, ready to shoot again. But when the animal raised its paw to knock him down, he lowered his bow and shouted at it instead.

"_Raan mir tah!"_

The bear roared and swiped at him, but with much less force than it could have, and the two stared at each other, neither one backing down. The first to move was the bear, as it collapsed to the ground with a mighty thud, still breathing.

"Heal it," said the Dragonborn, still looking at the massive beast in front of him.

Seara stood frozen on the spot.

"I won't go anywhere near it," she argued.

"You're close enough to die anyway, so why not come closer? He won't hurt you."

She slowly began to move her feet, staggering toward the injured creature and taking in its appearance. She'd never been this close to such a dangerous animal before.

"What did you do to it?"

"I made it trust me."

Still in shock, she knelt beside the bear and found the three arrows he'd shot.

"Humans and animals are different," she said. "I've never tried to heal an animal before."

"I have confidence in you. I also see that you're wearing the gift I left on your doorstep. With that, and if you are _kril, _you will bring him peace."

She pulled the arrows out of the dying animal one by one, and the whole situation reminded her terribly of the boy she had yet to see again. He watched her closely as she lightly laid her hands on the bear, drawing as much magika as she could from within herself. Her hands sparkled vibrantly, and she made sure to feel through the fur to check that the wounds were completely closed. Startling her, it got up and nudged her shoulder with its snout. She got to her feet as it stood on its hind legs, sniffing at the air. In its shadow, she felt insignificant.

"You did it," said the Dragonborn, smiling at her.

"In the dragon tongue, what would you call him?" Seara asked. She was dumbfounded as she looked up at its figure, towering over her.

"_Aan kodaav,"_ he replied, reaching out and petting its side.

"_Aan kodaav,_" she repeated. Truthfully, he was becoming more interesting by the moment.

The bear lowered itself to stand on all fours again, looking at her. It blew a great gust of air through its nose, making some of her hair move, and turned to leave. She watched it walk away, trying to comprehend how she was able to touch it, to almost communicate silently with it, but she was unable. No matter how hard she tried, she knew would never understand the true power within the man standing next to her, but at the same time, as he gazed at her, he seemed incredibly and unbelievably mortal. No one had ever looked at her the way he was, and she couldn't bring herself to look away. Something about the expression on his face made her proud. It was the same look of wonder she'd given the bear, but she couldn't figure out why someone like him, who could probably have anyone he wanted, would be looking at _her_ in wonder.

"You are amazing at what you do," he said slowly, walking closer to her. "_Ful_ _banaar_. So humble."

He lifted a hand up and lightly touched her hair, and she felt herself blush again, feeling as though she'd never done so as much as she had since she met him.

"You turn red easily," he commented, coming closer still.

"Do you really see me as the type of girl who would kiss a man without knowing his name first?" she asked quietly.

"Revak," he whispered. She could hear the longing in his voice. "My name is Revak."

"That means something in the language of the dragons, doesn't it...?"

"You're a fast learner."

She closed her eyes and their noses touched before she made herself turn away, and even then, she was surprised at how long she lingered. He looked at her hesitantly, and she knew she'd succeeded in embarrassing him. She felt bad, but knew she had to let him know more about her.

"That's not the best thing for one's self esteem," he said.

"I'm sorry. I just… there's something you need to know. Will you walk back to the city with me?"

"You make it sound like you believe one rejection is going to put me off," he said. "Let's go."

The walk through the fields and back to the city was painfully quiet, and she wished it wasn't. She tried to focus on her surroundings like she normally would, but she found herself thinking of the moment between them instead. Part of her wished she wouldn't have stopped him, and it was a part of her she'd never paid any notice to before. It stirred within her and made her hate herself for the conflicting emotions, and made her wonder what it would've been like. She did her best to push the thoughts away, somewhere deep inside where they might not be seen again, but she could feel them fighting their way out every few seconds… how was she supposed keep her head on straight after something like that?

A kiss; it was so normal, something that wasn't even generally spoken of because there was no need for an exchange of words about such a thing. It was so common to everyone except her. She wondered what would happen if she stopped him right where they were and asked him to continue, but she knew she never would. If she was going to let any man kiss her, it would be because she wanted to kiss him too, not because she was curious. She thought about how he'd been willing to tell her his name at her request while they were so close. The one thing he'd been adamant about refusing to reveal… he was probably, at that point, ready to reveal anything.

She shut the door behind them when they entered the house, and she took a quick look around, making sure no one was there before facing him again.

"I'm truly sorry," she said again. "I shouldn't have let things go for as long as they did."

He shook his head, indifferent, and she continued.

"It isn't safe for me to be with you, Revak." The name felt strange passing over her lips. She was literally speaking a different language when she said it, but had no idea what it meant. "It isn't safe for me to even be seen with you."

"Why?" He was getting aggravated, and she could tell.

"When you were gone, my knowledge of where you were put my life in danger." She started to pace as she went on, feeling nervous. "Someone from the Dark Brotherhood found me, and he took me into the woods, demanding I tell him where you went."

"And you live to tell the tale?"

"I got lucky. Til showed up and shot him with one of the arrows you made, killing him before anything happened. But it was frightening. You have to understand. I couldn't handle it, and I still can't. If it happened once, it's going to happen again."

"Probably. You're lucky to have a friend like Til."

She gawked at him. How could he be so nonchalant about being hunted?

"Listen to me," she said. "When he asked me where you were, I told him. I wasn't brave enough to lie. I can't let them see me with you again. For all you know, I might tell them your name." Her vision blurred, and she knew there were tears coming, so she tried to suppress them.

"Don't," he told her, noticing her swimming eyes. "Your honesty means more to me than your bravery. I saw the bravery today, in the fields. I don't need any more proof of it. We all have weak moments, and nothing came of yours. Put it aside."

She bit her lip and shook her head at him, still feeling guilty.

"You haven't told me everything yet, _brit._ You're still carrying the weight of something on your shoulders."

"No," she lied. "That's all."

"You teased me into telling you the one thing I held back. I want to hear the one thing _you're_ holding back."

The guilt trip. She wasn't fond of it, but he had a point. Slowly, she made her way over to the table and opened the drawer, pulling out the worn letter and handing it to him.

"Please," she said. "Don't laugh at me. I understand my girlish fantasies may be silly to you. They're silly to Til too, you know. But they aren't to me."

He read the whole letter without saying a word, and when he folded it back up, he smirked at her and handed it back.

"So this anonymous letter indicates that there is a man out there somewhere who longs to meet you again and thank you properly for saving his life. You wish he would, and you wonder when he might, but you're also afraid…"

"That he might not even be alive anymore," Seara finished. "Til says he can't be. Who would write a letter like this one, and then have no other correspondence with the recipient for six years?"

"She has a point, you know. From the looks of it, the odds weren't in his favor."

"He was attacked by bandits. There were so many arrows in his side… just like that bear earlier, only worse. I was so scared, but I went with Til to find him, and I worked so hard to keep him alive. Something within me tells me he made it. He must've!"

"That feeling could be wishful thinking," said Revak.

"It's not. I know it isn't. If it was just wishful thinking, I would've abandoned it by now." She dug up the arrows she'd saved from that day, which she'd washed after she found out they were poisoned, and the chest piece of his armor she'd never given back. "These are the arrows. And this is the armor he was wearing. It wasn't much."

"It certainly wasn't," he laughed, turning it over in his hands. "But those arrows are incredible. I've used them before, but they're hard to come by. Look, if you believe so strongly that this man still exists, I'll help you find him."

Was he really telling her he was going to hunt down the man whole stole her affection from him? How could he have abandoned his pursuit so easily?

"You would do that?" she asked, bewildered.

"I would do anything for you," he replied. "On one condition."

"What is it?"

He locked eyes with her boldly, a small smile forming on his lips.

"Give me a chance first," he said.

And the chase was on again.

"How can you be so sure you'll find him?" Seara asked.

"It's what I do," he told her. "And I'm confident. There's no doubt in my mind that if he lives, I'll find him. If he's dead, I'll find out what happened to him. But I know your heart isn't lining up with your mind right now either. Give me a chance, like you were going to earlier. I know you thought about it. Don't talk about this man, or the letter. If it doesn't work, then that's fair enough. I'll stay true to my word. If the chance pays off though, well, that would be all I could hope for."

She listened to his offer carefully, knowing he was right. She thought back to the time she'd vowed to forget the letter and give someone new a chance, and knew this, of all things, was that chance.

"You have a deal," she said.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks so much for staying with me! I hope you all are liking it so far... Remember to review, and I'll make you breakfast. Maybe not, but it's the thought that counts.**

The sound of clashing swords and the roars of training men filled Seara's ears as she approached the Companion's mead hall. Revak had told her a few days previously that he was planning to train with Til, and originally, she'd wanted no part in it. But after giving it some thought, she was somewhat jealous. Not of him spending time with her, of course, but because they could both do so many things she couldn't. She didn't even properly know how to hold a sword or bow, and wasn't strong enough to lift any sort of axe or hammer. Everything about her, after the incident with the Dark Brotherhood, screamed "easy target."

She walked up the steps and slowly made her way around to the back side of the hall, making sure to avoid being seen by Til or Revak, and took a seat at a table in the shadows. There were several people training, most of them men. Til was trying her hand at a new bow she'd earned for ascending the ranks, but was still looking quite shaky in her handling. Revak was standing beside her with his own bow drawn, showing her proper positioning of the arms as she attempted to draw back. He was explaining correct breathing techniques, motioning to his own torso as he breathed in and she mimicked him. He had to tell her more than once to keep from hunching her shoulders and to straighten her back, and she was getting frustrated. Once she had her formation correct, they began working on the aim and putting it all together, which she was incredible at. The force of the shot was lacking though, and she began working on the strength behind it. Seara was amazed at the amount of effort it was taking just to learn how to properly use a better bow; she'd honestly thought they were all the same.

"Who are you?" A female voice asked from behind her. She turned to look at the speaker, and came face to face with a scantily clad woman holding a bow and looking down at her judgmentally. Her face was covered in diagonal streaks of black paint, and Seara thought they looked like claw marks.

"My name's Seara," she said shyly. "I'm a friend of Til's. I live down by the gates, and I thought it might be interesting to observe your training today. Maybe even learn something. I'm not looking to join; I just need to figure out some way to defend myself."

"Well I'm Aela," the woman said, sounding bored. "And you really shouldn't be on the training grounds if you aren't a member. It's a good thing you aren't here to join. You don't even look like you _could_ be a member."

Slightly offended, Seara frowned at her.

"He's here," she commented, pointing at Revak.

"He's the Dragonborn," Aela said. "Who are you?"

"Aela, stop terrorizing the visitors," called out another woman, approaching.

Aela was obviously put off by the sight of her, looking annoyed. She walked away, and Seara was thankful to see her go.

"Don't mind her," the woman said. She was very pretty, with dark brown hair and eyes. Even her war paint was subtle, only applied in small streaks. Two streaks came downward from the center of her eyes, and one from the center of her lips. "My name is Ria."

"Is she always like that?"

"Truthfully, yes. So what was it you were looking to learn?"

"Anything," Seara said, thankful for a friendly soul.

They spent the next several minutes on the other side of the training grounds, working with the simplest weapon she could think of—an iron dagger.

"There's much more to it than simply stabbing your attacker," Ria had told her. She went on to explain the many uses of a dagger, such as stealth techniques, different attacks, and skinning animals. "Their pelts are often very valuable, and the better you are at skinning, the better the quality of the pelt will be, earning you more coin for your trouble. And when you're in the wilderness without a cozy inn nearby, you'll need to feed yourself. It may not be pretty, but it's all necessary. If you aren't big on physically killing the animal yourself, you could always learn how to set traps. One of my favorite things to do with a dagger is to throw it. Of course, you have to have fair aim, and you'll need to learn how to put the right spin on it."

"Teach me how to do that," Seara requested. They walked to the practice dummies set up against the wall, and Ria took the dagger from her, proceeding to focus on the target and send the dagger through its heart, or where it would be.

"The trick is to use arm and your wrist, not just one or the other. But you can't use them at the same time," she said. "You have to bring your arm back and start the force of the throw at your shoulder, feel it move down the length of your arm, and then flick your wrist as your release. It has to be a very smooth chain reaction, or it won't always work. It'll take a while before you can get the hang of judging the distance, too."

Seara retrieved the blade and returned to where Ria stood, ready to try the throw for herself. She mocked her drawback and threw the best she could, but the dagger missed the target completely and landed with a clatter next to a man who sat against the wall, cleaning the blood of some sort of animal from his blade. She covered her mouth, waiting for him to yell, and he looked up and glared at her.

"Watch it!" He snarled. His Nordic accent was thick.

"Sorry!" She yelled back.

"You don't have to apologize to Vilkas," Ria told her. "That throw wouldn't have done anything to hurt him with all that armor on. Unless you hit him in the head, and, well, that was highly unlikely." She looked over at Vilkas and spoke to him. "You shouldn't be sitting so close to the targets anyway! Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?" He stood up and began to walk away.

"You're right," he said, eyeing Seara. "I'm just not used to anyone around here missing a stock-still target so badly."

She felt embarrassed, but they continued to practice for quite a few hours, until she was at least hitting the target. The dagger didn't always stick, but it was hitting, and she felt proud of herself. After a little more practice, she felt ten times more confident than she had when she'd arrived. She strode over to where Revak and Til were practicing, now sitting on the ground and working on sharpening the arrow tips without a grindstone. She stopped behind them, facing a target with a bull's-eye painted on it, and threw the dagger over their heads, causing both of them to duck. It stuck in the target, on the outermost ring, and she put her hands on her hips triumphantly as they turned to look at her. Revak had no paint on his face, and she was surprised at how different he looked without it. The brief thought of their almost-kiss stirred within her again, and she let it stay.

"In complete honesty," he started, "Your initiative is damn sexy."

Til laughed out loud, and choked on nothing.

Later that night, she invited both of them into the hall, much to Aela's disappointment. The Companions appeared to be a lively bunch; there was always someone playing music, a few of them were singing and they were almost all drunk. Seara sat and listened to their accounts of battles, near death experiences, and glorious victories, amazed at how excited all of them were at the prospect of a challenge. They asked Revak to recount some of his stories as well, and not long after, they were comparing. Til was one of the loudest and most animated of the bunch, knocking over chairs as she depicted kills, and waving her tankard about while she wildly exaggerated her tales.

"'Ey, Til!" A man named Torvar slurred. "Quit your story tellin' and get over 'ere and drink with me."

"Are we just drinking buddies tonight, or is this another challenge?" She asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him roguishly.

"You know I can't resist a game," he said.

"This should be good," Farkas chimed in.

After about the fourth or fifth drink, Til had lost all interest in the contest, and was standing on one of the tables leading the hall, at the top of her lungs, in a rousing battle chant. In all the commotion, Revak grabbed Seara's hand and they slipped out the door into the night.

"She won't even notice we're gone," he said.

He was probably right. The sky looked brighter than usual, but it was also exceptionally frigid. He led her by the hand to the wall of rock near the steps, and leaned into the stone, pushing it with his shoulder and revealing a passageway.

"How did you even know that was there?" she asked. "And should we really be using it?"

"I crawl dungeons, _brit._ Secret entrances are a second nature."

"But… should be using it?"

"Who cares?"

"Where are we going?"

"You ask too many questions. Don't you know me at all? We're wandering."

She followed him into a large cavern within the rock, and down a narrow passageway. She jumped down with his help at the end, and they found themselves outside the gates, just past the watchtowers. As they continued to walk, she realized that she liked the feeling of her hand in his. It was rough from so many years of handling different weapons, and hers was soft and delicate. It didn't seem like they should fit together, but they did.

He stopped at an unoccupied hunting camp. There were no tents because the hunters had packed up and left, but there were still a few logs to sit on and a fire pit. He turned her so she was facing north, and pointed in the direction of the mountains that seemed forever away. Above them, the sky was a brilliant green and blue. She'd only seen the lights a few times in her life, and they were breathtaking.

"It only happens on the coldest nights here," he told her. "I remember seeing it all the time when I lived in Windhelm. It's one of the few memories I have from when I was that young. After a while, it became something normal, and I stopped appreciating it."

"It's beautiful," she said, shivering. "I've seen it before, but it's been a long time. I guess it just doesn't usually get cold enough in Whiterun."

He was turning over the twigs in the fire pit with his feet, making sure there were still enough of them to burn a fire for a while, and luckily there were. He sat down on one of the logs facing the fire pit, and motioned her over. When she sat down next to him, he leaned forward and said something in low growl.

"_Yol._"

Seara's eyes widened as a small burst of flame left his mouth, successfully lighting a fire in front of them. She'd only seen him use his voice twice, and neither thing he'd said had harmed anyone. Of course, this one didn't either, but if he was using it offensively, it certainly could have. The fire crackled impressively and eventually settled down.

"Does that burn?" She asked.

He contemplated her question for a moment.

"_Nid_. It did the first few times. After a while it just started to feel warm."

"So you've told me a few things about yourself, but nothing relating to this." Seara proceeded cautiously, unsure if he would be willing to share. "What's it like? Being Dragonborn, I mean. To have the soul of a dragon… to use your voice that way…" She couldn't find the words to continue. The whole concept was so foreign; she was unable to figure out how to speak of it correctly. She was sure there were terms for everything, but she simply didn't know them. He laughed to himself.

"It's… different," he said. "I first discovered it three years ago. I was twenty-two." So he was only year older than her, she thought. "I found myself caught in the middle of a battle between the guards of a hold and a dragon, and really only got one or two hits in on the thing. I spent most of the time running. But when it died, its soul came to me of all people, and I had no idea what was happening. I actually almost blacked out. The feeling was so peculiar... It was like the air around me was rushing past my ears; I couldn't hear anything, and it felt like something was swelling up within my chest begging to be let out, but I had no way of letting it. Now, though, it's refreshing. It clears my mind of the thoughts of battle, and brings me peace. It also makes me tired. I think that only happens because it signals the battle is over and I can finally rest, but I usually don't get the chance."

"Wow." Seara felt stupid saying the word, but wasn't sure what else to say.

"The skies have been too calm lately," he continued. "I feel weak, almost like I _need_ to kill one, but I hate doing it. They've all retreated... for now. They're waiting. I challenged their leader, Alduin, on _Monahven,_ but wasn't able to take him down before he retreated. The head of the Greybeards informed me that he's retreated to Sovngarde to feast on the souls of the dead and regain his strength before he strikes again."

"That's terrible!"

"I know." He was silent for a while, staring into the fire. "I need to stop it."

"That's a big burden to carry."

He nodded, looking stressed.

"One of the reasons I came to Whiterun was so that I could use Dragonsreach. I've spoken to the Jarl about using that ancient trap to capture a particular _dovah_ called Odahviing so I may speak to him and decide what needs to be done, but the preparations will take a while to complete."

"Your plan is to literally bring a dragon into the city?"

"It sounds bad, I know. But I'll take care of it." He sighed. "I always do. I have to."

"Did it change you? Awakening your soul?"

"In more ways than one," he mumbled. "You won't want to sit through them all."

"Tell me one good one and one bad one, then."

"Well, opening my soul in turn opened my mind. I found myself thirsting for knowledge like I never had before. I started to read a lot. The _dov _are incredibly smart, and I felt inadequate, so I learned as much as I could, as fast I could. I'm still learning, always." He tilted his head and tapped it with a finger, smiling. "But there are downfalls too, depending on how you look at them."

"Give me one."

He cleared his throat and looked away, and she knew he was thinking of one but was embarrassed about it.

"Um…" He laughed nervously, and shook his head. "I'm not really sure how to word it and maintain my status as a gentleman."

"Try!"

"If you insist," he said. "The first year was the hardest for me, simply because the change had given me… _aan vanmindoraan smoliin fah slen."_

_ "_You know I don't understand you when you talk like that," Seara accused.

"It was awful enough having to say it to your face knowing you'd have no idea what I meant. It means, literally, I was given an incomprehensible passion for flesh." He wouldn't look her in the eye. "I went to bed with a lot of different women that year. Arngeir was so angry with me because I wouldn't practice self-control, but I felt like a teenage boy again, only much worse. I had to learn control over my thoughts before he would train me any further… like I said, it was a difficult year."

Seara laughed at him.

"Did you ever figure it out?"

"Kind of," he said. "I'm still a man though."

She shivered again, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the cold again, or because of the thoughts she'd forced away threatening to break free again.

"You could always come closer you know," he mentioned.

"You won't try anything funny, will you?"

"I'm not completely depraved."

She scooted closer to him, and he moved to put his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting her thoughts run free. His arms felt protective and safe, and he was warm. She wondered if he was always warm. The small movement his breathing caused was comforting, and she thought she might not even need to consider his offer anymore… no, she wanted to figure out who the author of the letter was, regardless. Didn't she? He ran his fingers through the hair that fell over her shoulder, and she forgot.

"Did you love any of the women you were with?" She asked.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to say anything, you."

"Did you?"

"Not them, no. There gap between loving someone and lusting after them is far wider than one might think."

"What do you feel for me?"

He was quiet.

"I'm not sure," he said honestly. She could the feel the vibrations from his chest as he spoke. "It would be too soon to say I loved you, but I would be lying if I told you thoughts from both sides of the spectrum hadn't crossed my mind."

"Thank you for being honest," she said.

"Right now," he started, "I wish I could kiss you. But I won't."

"Why not?" She lifted her head up and looked at him. He leaned over and rested his forehead on her cheekbone, touching his nose to the area between her jawbone and her ear. She felt the scruff on his face scratch against her.

"Because when you want one, you'll let me know."

Seara could feel his breath on her neck and collarbone, and at that particular moment, she felt like she wanted one more than ever before. She cherished the feeling, but said nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**A/N: Dang, now I have to make you guys breakfast. I hope this new chapter counts (it's a big one!). For this chapter, I did my research… The New Life Festival is a legitimate holiday in Tamriel as I've written it, and the things it entails are shown here as well. Very similar to New Years Eve/Day, and at the same time! All I did was add a few creative details to it. I thought it was interesting. Also, I tried my hand at writing something sensual while still staying classy, because I'm not a fan of raunchy writing. I don't believe the rating needs upped, but fair warning. Be sure to let me know how I did at it! Sorry the update took so long, but I think you'll be thankful I didn't rush it. Love you all! **

Seara sat on the wooden floor of her kitchen, staring into the pit of burning embers in front of her. It was early, but she was cozy; the heat was radiating from the gentle fire and warming her skin. Til sat behind her in the tall armchair, separating her hair into sections.

"Can you braid it? The way my mom used to?" Seara asked.

"Oh, that's so pretty," Til replied. "I don't think I could ever do it the same, but I can try!"

It felt good to have her best friend in the room with her, even if they weren't doing much. She felt like they hadn't seen each other as often as they used to, with Til's Companion jobs and Seara's time attempting to get to know Revak. The more she found out about him, the more she liked him, and she found herself thinking about him on a regular basis. Recently, she'd felt bad for him because he was growing so uneasy at the restlessness of the dragons. He'd been taking care of small matters around the city and surrounding areas, waiting for any indication that Alduin may have regained his strength. As soon as that happened, he would tell the Jarl to make the final preparations on the trap in Dragonsreach, but he found himself waiting… and waiting.

It was the first day of Morning Star, however, a time to put aside all things past and start anew. Til was vowing to use this year to take a leap of faith, she said. No matter what it was, she would do something drastically new, blindly. Seara thought she was ridiculous, promising to do something like that. So she decided on something simpler. She had plenty of things to put behind her, the letter being first. Revak had succeeded in charming her enough that she'd almost forgotten completely about it, and about their deal altogether. It was funny to think it was only a few weeks prior when she hated the thought of being with him. The letter was starting to seem childish and insignificant. She could feel herself growing up, and even though it terrified her, she promised herself she would use this year's New Life Festival to do so. When she asked Revak what his vow was, he told her since he hadn't made one yet, his vow was to make a vow.

"He's so different than anyone I've ever known, Til…"

Til finished the loose braid and used a thin, black piece of string to wrap the end and tie it off. She tossed it over Seara's shoulder and sat down on the floor beside her, examining the finished product. The braid started at the nape of her neck where the hair was just barely interwoven, and got slightly tighter as it continued. A few shorter layers of hair framed her face after falling out of the style, and it made her look soft and youthful. She'd always loved her hair. It was so thick and fell in waves naturally, reaching the middle of her back, and she hadn't ever seen a reason to cut it off. It was her favorite thing about herself, and one of the only things she was confident in.

"Don't you love the way things work out when you listen to me?" Til said playfully.

"I have to admit… you really might be right this time."

"_This_ time? When have I ever been wrong?"

Seara laughed to herself, knowing there were many times she hadn't taken her advice because it was wrong.

"Has he kissed you yet?"

She was taken aback by Til's sudden question.

"Actually… he tried to."

"What do you mean he tried? Are you honestly telling me you didn't let him?" Til appeared personally offended.

"You know me, Til. I felt weird. I'm not used to this… any of it. I want it to be when I'm ready for it too, you know?"

"Well you better get ready fast, because tonight gives you the perfect excuse. I swear, I'll kiss someone today even if I have no idea who they are. And that doesn't count as my leap of faith, either."

She was right. The festival had several traditions, and the emperor had tried many times over the years to order changes to it. Half of the citizens of Skyrim listened, and the other half did not. On the last day of every year, he always declared a raise in taxes or something similar, and it depressed everyone, so the first day of the new year was used as a day devoted to drinking, parties, games, and free ale at all the taverns. The New Life Festival used to be a holiday dedicated to debauchery as well as change, and many people still saw it as such. The cities had since stopped sponsoring it, but the people in them always found a way to pull together and make it happen. She sighed, feeling nervous at the thought. After winking at her, Til got up to leave and meet the other Companion members she was attending with, leaving Seara behind.

Every year, for the festival, she made a new dress for herself. It was a tradition passed on to her by her mother, and she loved it, because it was her way of moving forward and doing something new. Usually she didn't bother to make a drastic vow, so the dress was enough, and she always looked forward to it. This year, the dress was dark red. She put it on and admired the way it looked, with its rectangular neck line revealing her collarbones and its tight long sleeves. The top of the dress hugged her, and when it reached her hips, it loosened. It was the best looking one she'd made so far, and she smiled. She put on a pair of simple black boots with it and headed out the door, feeling confident.

The streets were already filled with people, everyone exchanging hugs and in some cases, kisses or small gifts of food or cloth. Banners were being hung and children were running through the crowds, laughing. The festival always made Seara happy, simply because she recognized it as the one day of the year where everyone was kind. Sometimes, perhaps, too kind. _One day to spread kindness, and one night to spread diseases, _her father used to say, chuckling at all that went on in the taverns as a result of the free ale.

She found Revak in the marketplace, talking in a lively way with Belethor, who had been yelling the past week at everyone about the sales he would have going on during the festival. Seara didn't like him very much; he seemed strange, like he would do anything to earn a coin, and was always loud. When Revak spotted her, he shook hands with the man and excused himself, walking over to her.

"Look at you," he said. "Who are you trying to impress today, _okaaz miin_?"

"Not Belethor, that's for sure," she laughed. A few feet away, she noticed a group of women eyeing them, and felt slightly put off by it.

"Don't worry about them," he told her. "They may have come to see me, but I didn't come to see them. You know, you could always kiss me, and maybe they'd go away."

"Nice try."

They spent a while walking around from stand to stand, looking at the price decreases and laughing at some of the ridiculous things that had gone on sale. Some of the citizens of Whiterun made it an annual tradition to set up shop in the marketplace and sell the unneeded things they found around their homes, in an attempt to make some extra coin. In addition, there were people showing off their talents. Some were painting, others were playing music, and a few were showcasing their strange abilities. All in all, it made for a fun walk, and once they'd seen everything in that section of town, Seara's sides were hurting from laughing so much. They sat down on the steps in front of the Bannered Mare after a while, watching Til float around with a few of the Companions. Together, they looked like they could be group of bullies, but they were all smiling.

"When you spend all your time in the wilderness, you start to learn how to read the emotions of the environment," said Revak. The topic he chose seemed strange. "The air is unstable. There'll be a storm here tonight."

"Snow?" Seara asked.

"Lots of it. It's coming across the plains from the west without anything in its way to weaken it. I was supposed to make a trip to Riften for a contract early in the morning, but with it passing through here and then moving that way, I might have to wait. Waiting makes me nervous."

"Just don't worry about it today. Today is fun," She said. "When the storm hits, everyone, including you, will take it step by step. There isn't any sense in dwelling on it now."

He nodded at her as three children who had previously been playing tag approached them, looking wonderstruck. There was a blonde girl and two brown haired boys with her, and the girl spoke first.

"Are you the Dragonborn?" she questioned. "_These _two are afraid to ask. I told them to stop being milk drinkers, but they won't listen to me."

Revak laughed, looking at the two boys who were fighting over who got to stand behind who while being addressed.

"I am," he said simply. The first boy immediately turned on the second, pushing him.

"I told you so! I told you he was!"

"So you do it then? You _really_ fight dragons?" Asked the second boy.

"Is that what you heard?" Seara joked, looking at the boy questioningly. "He doesn't do anything like that."

"Is she lying?"

"She tends to do that," said Revak. "Actually, I have fought a few dragons in my day."

The eyes of all three children widened.

"Can you tell us about one?" The blonde girl asked. "Are they _huuuuge_?"

"They're quite large," he responded flatly, obviously understating.

"Did it breathe fire?"

"What about frost?"

"How fast do they fly?"

"Well," he started, "I've seen dragons that breathe fire _and _dragons that breathe frost. Sometimes both. And while I have no idea how to measure the speed of their flight, I guarantee they can fly faster than you can."

"I can't fly at all…" said the second boy, sounding deeply disappointed.

"You can't? I can."

They all stared at him, unsure what to believe.

"I'm just messing around. Really. But if I ever figure out how to fly, you three will be the first to know."

They looked at each other, excited, as if his promise was something to actually wait upon.

"I'm going to be just like you when I get older," said the first boy. "I'll adventure all over the place, and I'll kill trolls and saber cats and wild bears and draugr and…" The second boy interrupted him.

"You can't be just like him, skeever butt! He's one of a kind!"

"Oh yeah…"

"_Anyway," _continued the girl, sounding annoyed with her friends. "Did you make a vow this year? What kind of vow would a Dragonborn make?"

"You know, I haven't made one yet. Maybe you could help me."

The girl smiled shyly, and her cheeks turned pink. She clasped her hands together and swayed back and forth before she answered.

"I think you should find a lady," she said, standing on her tiptoes. The boys mumbled something about that being boring before they said goodbye and ran off, but Revak laughed, and leaned in to whisper something. When he finished, the girl's eyes were wide and she turned to Seara, then back to him. She whispered something in his ear too.

"Maybe," he said mysteriously.

"You should hold his hand," the girl told Seara. "I think he's nice." She pranced off, happy as could be, to rejoin her friends.

"She thinks I'm nice."

Seara shook her head as she smiled in disbelief, taking his hand in her own.

By the time the sun started to set, the wind was picking up and she could tell for herself that a storm was on its way. There weren't any clouds in the sky yet, but judging by the bite in the wind, they were on their way. It wasn't deterring anyone from the festival, however, and in tradition, many of them were headed toward the Gildergreen. At sunset every year, the Lighting of the Vows was held, a tradition that was carried out differently in every city.

"When you lived in Bruma," she asked Revak, "How did they do their Lighting Ceremony?"

"Everyone likes to put their own spin on it," he said. "They lined the walkways with the candles, so as they were lit the light spread through the city the same way the happiness did. If your candle's flame went out, it was considered bad luck, and you had to give five gold pieces to relight it. It was a way of bringing in money, and no one was hesitant to do it."

"Here, we set the candles up around the Gildergreen. It symbolizes new growth and health, and it's really beautiful when the ceremony is done. Except we might've taken a different route when it comes to lighting the candles… If the flame on the candle used to light the others goes out while you have it, you have to show love to the person after you, without words, before you can relight it. It's almost become a game here, with each person trying to show more love or be more generous than the last. Not everyone participates anymore because of it, but I always have. I had an elderly woman give me her entire coin purse once."

"Impressive."

"Have you figured out your vow yet?"

"I already told you, my vow is to make a vow. That way I can have one now and a better one later."

"How clever of you…" She shoved him lightheartedly.

As they climbed the steps, the Gildergreen towered over them. The giant tree had no leaves on it due to the season, but there was something oddly comforting about the candles that surrounded it. They were set in a wide circle, and before long, all the spots were filled and more candles had to be added. Jarl Vignar Grey-Mane, a strong advocate for the Lighting of the Vows, was the first to receive the Father Candle. Every year, everyone hoped it would go out while he had it, because he was able to be the most generous. The one year it happened, he had his chef bake a loaf of bread for every family, to be delivered within the week. He used the Father Candle to light the smaller candle in front of him and passed it to the man next to him, and Seara could tell everyone in the circle was somewhat disappointed. The candle went out a few times before it reached her, one woman offered to cook a homemade meal for the family of the woman next to her, and a man gave a woman all the gold in his pockets. It was only six pieces.

When it reached the Companions, it went out while being held by the man she'd nearly stabbed when practicing her dagger throws. Vilkas, Ria had called him. Standing next to him was Til, and he turned to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She returned it, smiling, and her friends made a few jokes in good nature. Vilkas relit the candle, handed it to Til to continue the chain, and it was successfully passed on. When it reached Seara, she took it and thought on her vow for a few seconds before distributing the flame to set it in motion again. The wind was blowing harder as time passed, and for a moment, she was afraid the Father Candle's flame would go out before it left her hands. When it didn't, she turned to hand it to Revak, but he wouldn't take it.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "Take it!"

He shook his head, and several people around the circle laughed. The wind started to blow again, and she blocked the flame with her hand. It clicked that he was trying to make her hold it until it went out, and she started to get mad.

"I will hurt you," she said. "Take it."

He shook his head again. The wind died down, and she smirked at him, knowing the flame wouldn't go out on its own.

He sighed heavily.

"By the gods, what does a man have to do? Honestly."

He leaned over and blew the candle out himself, then took her face in his hands and kissed her. The sounds of whistles and whispers filled her ears, and she blocked them out, not caring about anything else in that moment except him. It was different from how she imagined, and it was quick, but when he pulled away, she felt like she was floating. He'd surprised her, but after all this time of waiting, she didn't mind.

"_Yes!_" Til squealed from the opposite end of the circle. She quickly covered her mouth. "Sorry."

He took the candle and relit it using the flame in front of her, then proceeded to light his own, passing it to the next person without a word. The little blonde girl from earlier ran up to him and they exchanged a discreet high-five before she danced away again.

"Did you really?" She asked him in a hushed whisper.

"Yes, I really did."

By the time the ceremony had finished, it was dark and the light from the candles flickered brilliantly before the wind blew them out one by one. They sat in the Bannered Mare and took advantage of the free ale as they watched people of all different races dance and do ridiculous things together, Til being one of them. At the moment, she was sitting under a table waiting for Vilkas to find her. She giggled obnoxiously when he did, and they ran out the door together into the freshly fallen snow. Within the past hour, it had started to fall in the kind of huge, fluffy flakes Seara hadn't seen since she was a child, but she knew the worst of the storm was still on its way. It was nearly two in the morning when the inn began to clear out; everyone wanted to make it home before the snow was too deep to comfortably walk in. Revak said goodbye to her and gave her another quick kiss, this time on the cheek, before he headed up the stairs to his room. She had to admit to herself that she was a little disappointed in the way he departed.

"Just a word of advice," Ysolda said, cutting through her thoughts. "I can see you're worried. You didn't give him the most positive affirmation the first time he did it… you're lucky he did it again at all."

"You know about that?"

"Everyone knows about that."

Seara sighed and found a broom, sweeping the floor as she thought. When she finished, she took a last drink from one of her bottles of ale for courage, put the broom away, and walked up the stairs, feeling sure of herself. She knocked on the door of the room he was staying in, and it opened slightly, revealing part of his face as he stared at her.

"What are you still doing here?" He questioned.

"I was just... Can I come in?"

He stepped away from the door and she pushed it open just enough to sidestep through, closing it by taking a few steps back once she was inside and pressing her back against it. She stared at him as he looked at her questioningly. His armor was off, and he had on regular pants and a plain white shirt, looking tired. She gathered her thoughts and plunged ahead, deciding now was the time to speak her mind.

"Originally," she started, "you told me you wouldn't kiss me because you knew I would tell you when I wanted one."

"I did say that, didn't I?" He looked away, and then back at her. "I'm sorry."

She raised her eyebrows at him, smiling.

"What?" He asked.

She reached out and grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands, pulling him closer. She kissed him the same way he'd kissed her earlier, gently, pulling away after only a few seconds. She looked at him, and it was hard to decipher his expression. He looked surprised and relieved at the same time.

"Well now I'm telling you," she said. "I want one. And then maybe a few more."

He gladly continued, and she let all the thoughts she'd been trying to suppress break free and swell up in her chest as the kiss deepened. Several minutes passed, and she moved her hands from the bottom of his shirt to his chest. He was holding her against the door with one hand, pressing on her shoulder, and the wood felt cold against the bare portion of her upper back, but his body heat made up for it. The other hand was on her waist, then in her hair, then on her stomach, and she loved the way it felt regardless of where it was. His breathing was heavy and his heart was beating wildly; she smiled against his lips, feeling so different from the shy and careful girl she used to be.

"Wait," he mumbled, still in mid-kiss. He broke away and grabbed her wrists, staring at her. "Stop."

She watched as he pulled his shirt over his head, and when he dropped it on the floor next to him, she admired the way he looked without it. He reached out and took her hand, placing it back on his chest and covering it with his own. He shivered slightly at her cold hands making contact with his warm skin, but he held her there for a while, waiting for his heart rate to calm down. He kissed her jawbone as he slowly moved her hand downward, stopping just above his right hip. He let go, and she glanced down.

"Look," he said.

When she moved her hand away, she was staring at five small scars. Upon looking back up, she found herself face to face with the boy from the bandit attack, the anonymous letter writer, very much grown.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**A/N: So many positive reviews on that last chapter! How awesome are you guys? It really made me feel pretty darn good. Sorry this one is so short; I needed a bit of a pathway into the next.**

Gazing up at him, Seara wasn't sure how she never noticed. The color of his eyes, his hair color, even his facial features were similar, only sharper because he'd grown up so much. He'd completely shed his boyish features, and she wondered if she had grown that much too. After all, he'd still recognized her. Everything made sense now. The way he was so comfortable around her even though they'd seemingly only met, the way he wanted to see her heal the bear, even the way he'd shot it. He turned away from her and walked to his bed, lying face down and holding the pillow. She sat on the floor next to him so their faces were level, and just looked at him. With the way he was laying, she could still see three of the scars, and she traced them with a finger.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked. "Not even just that… you completely hid it from me. Of course I see everything now, but why now? Why not before? You knew I've been trying so hard to forget him, and all this time, I've been trying to forget… you. Why?"

He thought for a moment, looking at her sadly.

"I wanted to get to know you for a second time…" he trailed off.

"That's the most awful reason I've ever heard."

His eyes narrowed.

"Quit being unreasonable. No it isn't," he said, sounding slightly angered. "You asked me, so I told you. Maybe I would explain if you showed any interest in knowing why."

"Okay, fine. Tell me why."

"No." He buried his face in the pillow and rolled over, and all Seara could think of was the ridiculous arguments her parents used to have before they eventually realized just how pointless they were.

"Now who's being unreasonable?" she asked. He mumbled something into the pillow unintelligibly, and she yanked it away from him, using it to hit him in the back. He sat up and threw it back, and after a few extra seconds of looking mad, both of them smiled.

"The Dragonborn just used a pillow as his weapon of choice," Seara giggled.

"Watch out."

"Okay." She forced herself to stop laughing, and continued. "I'm serious now. I really want to know."

"You might remember me telling you I don't do well with humiliation," Revak said, picking up the pillow and putting it back. He gave a small smile. "I still don't. I wanted to keep my promise, to come back and thank you, to get to know you… but I knew there was the possibility of heading into Whiterun to find you, having forgotten all about that day, happy with the one man you'd chosen out of several potentials."

"You envisioned much bigger plans for me than I did."

"If that would've been the case," he continued, "I would've let you be. But when I talked to you downstairs that night, it looked like my luck had increased. I couldn't pass it up, right? Then I come to find out that you're not only still single, you're waiting for me."

"That was probably odd."

"A little. But I found your guy, did I not?"

Seara laughed quietly.

"That you did…"

"I hid it from you because I wanted you to give me a chance as _myself._ Not as the boy whose life you saved six years previously. Think about it," he stared at her. "Everything would have been different if I'd approached it that way. But this way, you fell for me the way I am now. Not for the boy you knew me to be."

Seara sighed, closing her eyes. He was right, and things were probably better off the way they were now. To her, it was still almost unbelievable that it happened, even though he was lying right next to her, telling her.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" She asked.

"When I left Bruma, I had my heart set on finding the group of bandits that killed my parents. I'd only heard about them, but I knew enough to get started. I'd been tracking them for a few years, living off what I could catch or steal… I wasn't very healthy, and definitely not in any condition to be challenging large groups of fighters much more skilled than myself. I'd only just learned the basics of putting my own armor together, hence the horribly crafted piece you still own." Seara blushed as he continued. "The day you found me was the day I found them… and it didn't go well, obviously. After I left town, I joined the Stormcloak army almost immediately. I knew with them, I would at least have food to eat… not to mention training in all kinds of battle. With their help, I took down the bandits I was hunting, and we made our own camp out of theirs. It was the best kind of victory."

"You got them?"

"I did. And then, after I reached top ranks in the army, I found out I was the Dragonborn. The first thing I thought when it happened was that I'd finally made a name for myself. I wanted nothing more than to make my way back here, but I started training, and then the whole of Skyrim was counting on me… eventually, I found time. But in all honesty, I shouldn't have this much of it."

He started to look stressed again, and Seara put a hand on his arm.

"Take it as it comes," she said.

They talked for a few more hours, about everything and nothing, until she fell asleep as the sun was lighting the sky. She didn't remember the last thing he said to her, but when she woke up she found herself on the bed, under a blanket that smelled like him, while he had taken her place on the floor. She admired his respect for her as she looked at him, and while she lay there, she thought about just how lucky she might be.

The next few days were chaos in the city, as everyone worked to clear pathways from house to house and shop to shop after the storm. The snow was deep and the air was cold, leaving no room for the possibility of melting any time soon. Everyone was feeling rather bitter at the prospect of having low sales, and the happiness from the festival had worn off quickly. Seara, on the other hand, had never been happier. She wanted nothing more than to be outside, playing in the snow, and for Revak to be with her. She made sure to kiss him every chance she got, almost like she was making up for lost time, and he didn't seem to mind.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" she asked him as he leaned up against the stables. She had her arms around him, and was resting her head on his chest.

"I came back for you, does that count?"

"What does being with me mean to you? I mean… You'll still have to leave. The thought of you being gone…"

"Being with you means I have someone to think of, fight for, and come home to. I'm serious, if that's what you're asking." He lifted her head up to look at him as he continued. "There's never been anyone I've wanted to return to before. You're different. You're my _hahnu, okaaz miin._ You're my dream. I can't tell you what being in love feels like, because I don't know it any more than you do. But I'd like to find out… and when I do, trust me, I'll tell you."

"How do I know you'll come back to me?"

He gave her another kiss and smiled at her.

"I'm prepared to commit myself to you in a way that promises it," he told her. "I would marry you, _brit_. I'm willing to put myself in the position to be your husband, your servant and your guide. _Hin ahmul, hin aar ahrk hin aak. _All you have to do is say the words, Seara."

She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he'd just told her. Was she ready for that? She knew when people got married in Skyrim, it was generally a quick decision, but was it really this fast?

"Seara," said a voice to the right of them. She jumped, turning to see her father standing a few feet away, and suddenly found herself very embarrassed. She stepped away from Revak, who seemed reluctant to let go of her hand, shuffling her feet in the snow uncomfortably.

"Yes?" she asked quietly. He motioned for her to follow him, and after saying a quick goodbye, she did so. She felt nervous as she followed him back to the farmhouse, but when they got inside, everything seemed fine. He sat down at the kitchen table and looked at her, as if he was expecting her to speak first. When she didn't, he gave in.

"I've seen you around with him," he said. "Everyone has. So what is it?"

"What do you mean 'what is it?'"

"I heard you talking to him out there," he looked at her intently. "He told you he was serious about you. Are you serious about him? I know you, Seara. You've never been able to commit to anyone before. When I told your mother what he just told you, we knew what we were getting into. He's not just anyone, though. You do realize that if you commit to him, you're also committing to him when he's away for weeks on end, don't you?"

"Why are you trying to scare me away from him? I haven't even decided anything, Da. It seems so fast…"

"If I told you to wait, I would be a hypocrite." Her father looked at his hands, folded on the table, and continued. "Things are different here. When I met your mother, I knew I wanted to be with her, but we weren't in love when we were married. That came later."

"How did you truly know the feeling? When did you realize it?"

"The day you were born was the first time I truly felt it. But the day she died was the day it hit me, when I realized I'd loved her more than I could've ever understood until she was gone."

Seara was quiet. She had never really talked to her father about his relationship with her mother before, and something about the conversation led her to believe he'd been desperately searching for a reason to have it. She wondered if he'd ever told anyone, or if he was just now getting everything off his chest, after a few painful years of holding it all in.

"When you find someone you believe you can't live without, someone so important to you that you feel you couldn't go on if they were removed from your life, that's the person you marry. And that feeling may not come right away, but there will always be an indicator there of who that person is. I can see it in your eyes that you know what I mean."

She went on to tell him everything, starting with the day she showed him the arrows. She explained who they boy turned out to be, how she'd waited for years to hear back from him, and how she finally felt like she could move forward. Afterward, the two of them talked about memories of her mother, something she hadn't been able to do with anyone the way she could with him. It felt so wonderful for her to be able to sit and talk with her father the way she used to. Eventually, however, it got quiet again.

"I miss her, Da." Seara said softly.

"I do too. But nothing would make me happier than to know you'll get the chance to feel the way I did." As he spoke, he started to build his walls back up again, returning to his normally gruff farmer self. He'd been so brave to tell her how he felt, and she knew his intentions were good. "Just make sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

In all honesty, she wasn't sure if she knew yet.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**A/N: So, I really hated chapter 10. I'm sorry for forcing it on you guys, it actually pains me. Hopefully this will make things a tiny bit better! I know the story from beginning to end; sometimes it's just hard to get there.**

Seara tossed and turned in her bed, unable to get comfortable despite the warm blankets and all the room she had to stretch out. Maybe that was part of the problem. She thought of the way she felt when Revak had his arms around her, and part of her wished he was with her as she lay there. The other part, however, was still much too shy to even mention it. He was leaving for Riften in the morning, after much waiting, and for the first time, she found herself dreading the thought of him going away. She closed her eyes tight, willing to fall asleep, but sleep wouldn't come. Her mind was racing, and she realized she had a decision to make.

She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep, but when she opened her eyes again, light was streaming through the windows, and she panicked. What time was it? As she scrambled to her feet, she hoped he hadn't left yet. He wouldn't have left without saying goodbye first, would he? She ran out the door with her hair still a mess, making her way through the remaining snow to the inn, where Ysolda told her he'd left a while ago.

"He said he had some other things to do first," she said. "If you were looking for him. He'll probably be outside the gates if he's still here."

Seara thanked her and ran out again, heading for the city gates. He wasn't there either, so she slowed down to catch her breath as she walked, and spotted him in front of the stables. When she got closer to him, she noticed there was a nasty bruise on his right cheekbone, and his lip was bleeding.

"What happened to you?" She asked. He turned to look at her, seemingly surprised she'd shown up, and smiled sheepishly.

"I could ask the same to you," he said, eyeing her messy hair and slightly crooked clothing. "It looks like you slept well."

She blushed, combing a hand through her hair and using the other to straighten her dress.

"I didn't fall asleep until early this morning," she explained. "So I slept later than I thought I would. You, on the other hand… rough morning?"

"Not really," he said. "You're forgetting that I spend most mornings surrounded by draugr or attempting to keep my body heat in during a snow storm. I just got in a fight, that's all."

"'That's all?'" Seara repeated, sounding exasperated. "Who could you possibly be getting into fist fights with?"

He started to untie his horse, a beautiful brown animal with a black mane and tail, and looked over his shoulder at her.

"You'd be better off not asking that question. It wasn't a big deal, really. Everything is settled, and I need to leave."

He leaned in to kiss her, and she avoided him, narrowing her eyes.

"Take me with you," she said.

He laughed, and she folded her arms, tilting her head to the side.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Actually, yes. I am. It's not that I don't want to take you, it's just—"

She cut him off with a kiss, holding his face in her hands. She stopped after a few seconds, and when she lowered her hands, his bruises were gone.

"Now will you take me?"

He smiled at her, but shook his head.

"I can't. But you should really save a few of those for when I get home…"

"Why would I do that when I can just follow you?"

He climbed up onto the horse and placed his fist over his heart, looking at her in a condescending sort of way.

"You won't follow me," he said confidently. "And with that, I'll see you in a week."

Seara felt herself getting angry at him again as she watched him ride off. In her one brave moment, she'd been shot down. Determined to not give up so easily, she headed to the farmhouse to ask her father for his opinion, but he was out in the fields assessing the damage the storm had done on his crops, so she went inside and waited patiently for him.

He came in while she was flipping through a book on the kitchen table, and she didn't bother to look up.

"I suppose you're here to yell at me, eh?" he assumed.

"Why would I—"

She looked up at him as she spoke, but stopped abruptly when she saw him. He was smiling, the proud owner of a terrible black eye.

"You didn't," she said. "You did _not_ just get in a fight with him." She put a hand on her forehead, pushing her hair back and closing her eyes.

"Of course I did," he responded nonchalantly.

"He said it was no big deal!"

"It wasn't. We're men. It's what we do when we get bored, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I can't even… why?"

"Why in general, or why this time?" Her father laughed. He seemed to be getting great enjoyment out of the situation. At least someone was. She stared at him with pursed lips, not amused. In truth, she was angry at both of them. "Alright, alright. The poor fool had the nerve to march right up to me and ask me himself for permission to marry you, when you're ready, of course."

Seara buried her face in her hands and then slumped over onto the table.

"He gave me some nonsense about not being able to share his name for the time being, so I challenged him to… well, a brawl." He still had a laugh in his voice. "It's been too long, and I had to know if he was capable of protecting my daughter somehow, right?"

She groaned into the table.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed," he told her. "It's not often a man has enough courage to ask his love's father before continuing. Well, even I didn't do that. I lost the fight, but I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm not as young as I used to be, and he's a good man. Even if you might not be acting like it right now, you've grown. You'll know when you're ready."

"Right…" She said. "So how's the road to Riften from here?"

Seara rummaged through the drawers in her house, looking for anything useful that she could fit in a knapsack. She couldn't figure out what she was doing. Was she planning to chase down Revak because she was mad? Because she wanted to prove herself? Was it just because she couldn't stand him being away, and she missed him? Or was it something else, a combination of all sorts of reasons? The only thing she knew was that she didn't know. She was headed to Riften, or wherever she happened to meet up with him, and couldn't wait to either give him a piece of her mind… or another kiss. Maybe both. She sighed in a frustrated way, feeling annoyed at herself for not having any of her thoughts straightened out. She briefly wondered if she should tell Til she was leaving, but decided against it. This, whatever it was, was something she had to do on her own.

Back out at the stables, she untied her father's horse and got on the way he'd taught her growing up, and started to ride away, not looking back for fear she'd turn around. She travelled the whole day, staying faithful to the road and the signs. The last thing she wanted was to encounter something she wouldn't be able to handle. If there were any signs of life nearby, she rode faster, hoping not to raise the suspicions of anyone lurking in the brush. She passed the woods where she'd been taken by the assassin, and felt a strange twinge of fear in her chest. She was now the farthest she'd ever been from home, and everything was unfamiliar. The trees were scraggly and scary looking even in the sunlight, and as sunset came upon her, she was only reaching Ivarstead.

Revak, being on a journey by himself, wouldn't have stopped at an inn for the night. She knew he would either still be going, or had made a place to stay in the woods until morning. She reluctantly passed up the town, and slowed her pace to keep an eye out for him. He hadn't been travelling anywhere near as quickly as she was, so she was confident she would catch him, but she found herself distracted by the darkness. She hadn't been afraid of the dark since she was little, but suddenly, she was terrified. Maybe it was because of the very real dangers that were hidden all around her, this far out of the city walls. Even Ivarstead hadn't had any walls, and she wondered how the people there lived without being constantly afraid of what might enter their homes so close to the woods. She thought briefly of turning back, staying there for the night and making up for lost time early in the morning. The thought was tempting, and just as she was about to take herself up on it, she caught a glimpse of the flicker from a fire through the trees ahead.

She dismounted her horse several feet away, deciding it would be safer to see who the fire belonged to without being heard. There was no way of knowing if it was his or not, and she certainly didn't want to go galloping in on a small bandit camp. As quietly as she could, she weaved her way through the trees, trying to get close enough to see. A twig snapped beneath her feet and she winced, feeling a shiver go through her body a split second later. It was him. She would know that feeling from anywhere; it was the same one she'd gotten when he'd whispered something to detect Til in the bushes outside the inn. But where was he? He wasn't anywhere near the fire.

Something cold touched the back of her neck, and she jumped. She turned around and stumbled back a few steps, staring at him. He had his sword out, ready to run her through without a second thought.

"No, don't!" She yelled, sounding panicky. When he realized who she was, he sheathed the sword and set his jaw. He was obviously mad, and walked toward the fire without saying anything to her. He started to take twigs from a pile he'd made and break them in half one by one, throwing them into the fire.

"I told you I would follow you," she said, striding over to him. He dropped another stick into the flames and watched it burn. "You didn't think I would do it."

The corner of his mouth twitched with all the words he was trying to hold back as he turned to her.

"Do you feel like you have something to prove to me?" He asked. "Because you don't. All you did today was put your life in danger after I told you I wouldn't bring you with me. There's a reason for the things I say, Seara!"

She flinched at his words. She hadn't ever seen him mad before, and he was fuming.

"There are so many reasons I had to come," she said.

"_None_ of them are good enough!" He was pacing back and forth, and turned away from her. He clenched his left fist, and it briefly emitted flames before he shook it to extinguish them. "I was ready to cut your head off, you know."

"Calm yourself," Seara commanded, evening her tone. "I understand why you didn't want me out here, but I think you're overreacting because I scared you."

"You didn't scare me."

She stared at him.

"You didn't," he repeated.

"Alright, I'll believe you," she said as she sat down in the grass. "But you're looking at this all negatively. Come sit by me."

He didn't move.

"You're being awfully stubborn for someone whose scaredy-cat girlfriend just travelled a whole day from home to meet up with him," she teased. "I could be yelling at you in return for punching my father over a marriage request that has no weight to it yet, but instead, I'm going to lay here and watch the torchbugs. Whether you lay next to me or not is your business, but I would suggest you do, since we're leaving for Riften early in the morning."

He shook his head at her, his expression softening. He still wouldn't smile, but he sat down next to her, and she thought about how proud she was that she knew how to calm him down.

"Really," she mused, "I think you just want to kiss me, but you won't because you're too busy trying to stay annoyed."

She grabbed his hand and shrugged at him, and there was a bit of an awkward period of silence before he bent over her and did as she said.

"Damn you," he whispered. He put a hand on her waist and laid her down in the grass, kissing her collarbone.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Seara's ear- piercing scream filled the cold morning air just as the sun was rising. She nearly ran over Revak as she scrambled backward, and he jolted awake when he heard her, just in time for her elbow to hit him in the nose.

"What is it?" he asked in an urgent sort of way, holding a hand over his face where she'd hit him.

"That! That..._ thing! _I woke up and I heard it, and then I saw it and it's over there somewhere still!" She pointed a trembling finger at the trees, and dusted something invisible off her body as if trying to remove something that wasn't actually there. "Gods, it's _huge!_" She got to her feet and ran several feet away, standing with her hands over her mouth.

"Well what was it?" Revak asked tiredly, still sitting and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

She squeaked as she heard it shuffling through the brush, coming closer. When it emerged from the trees, she screamed again.

"Are you serious? It's only a Frostbite Spider…" He began to rummage through his things and pulled out a steel dagger wrapped in a small cloth. He then stood up and walked over to her, handed it to her coolly, and put a hand on her shoulder. "So go kill it."

"With this? _You_ kill it! Aren't you supposed to protect me or something?"

He laughed at her.

"You're the one who thought she was tough enough to follow me. Give that throw Ria taught you a try. It's just standing there."

It was like he was challenging her, and it made her mad. She looked at the dagger, straightened her back, and threw it. It missed, and he laughed again.

"You're absolutely terrible when you're tired," Seara said, glaring at him. The spider started to move forward, feeling threatened.

"_Zu'u," _Revak pushed her gently toward the beast. "I am. Go try again."

She resisted, pushing pack against him.

"Do you think you'll encounter anything easier to take down out here? Go!"

She took a step forward, and the spider spat a stream of nasty green liquid at her, covering her hair and face. She closed her eyes tight against it, terrified of being poisoned, and heard the _twang_ of Revak's bow as he took down the huge arachnid with a single arrow. Wiping her face with her sleeves, she sat on the ground and tried to open her eyes safely.

"You look great," he said as she looked up at him. She scowled, angry with him, and reached up to touch her hair. It was sticky with the poison, and starting to clump together. "Like a real warrior. Now… The quicker you get up, the quicker we can get to Riften." He turned from her, putting his bow away. She stared at him as he retrieved his arrow and proceeded to untie his horse and her own, which she'd eventually brought closer to the campsite. She already felt mentally exhausted, and they'd only been awake for a few minutes.

"We're leaving now?"

"We're awake, aren't we?"

Within ten minutes, they were on the horses and on their way to Riften. The climate was much warmer on the other side of the mountain, and if any snow from the recent storm had stuck to the ground at all, it was already gone. The trees all still had leaves, and everything was alive with color.

"You know," Seara said as they casually rode along. "Just because I've decided I'd like to see more than the walls of Whiterun, doesn't mean I want to become a practiced warrior."

"The two go hand in hand in the world today, _brit._ Don't fool yourself." Revak looked over at her, smiling sadly. "Riften is probably the worst place you could've chosen to visit first."

"Why?"

"Well, it's a bit…" He shrugged. "Rough around the edges. I suppose if you're there long enough, and you look _really _hard, you might find someone worth knowing. But the whole town is filled with thieves and pickpockets, so the same person you got to know might stab you in the back for your coin purse later on."

_Oh, _Seara thought. She was beginning to see why he didn't want her to follow him. But how bad could it be? Surely it wasn't as terrible as he was making it out to be.

"It can't be that bad," she said.

"I guess not, if you get along well with Thieves Guild members and skooma addicts." He glanced over at her. "Frostbite spiders are the least of your worries around here. They say just outside of Ivarstead, where we slept, _gaaf falook fin feykro."_

She looked at him curiously, and he repeated himself.

"Ghosts haunt the forest. Why do you think I chose to stay there? Everything is an adventure, _okaaz miin._" Noticing the scared expression on her face, he continued. "You're still in one piece though, _aam?_ Hmm?"

"Barely, I'll never get this stuff out of my hair." she said, half joking. "For a second, I thought you were actually going to let it get me."

"I should've. It isn't as if I got the chance to practice when I first started out. I learned by being attacked, and having to defend myself. _Nuz…_ I suppose I wouldn't do that to you if it was preventable."

"Thanks." Seara laughed, beginning to enjoy his company again. At least she knew he could protect her if he needed to. "You mentioned something about skooma addicts earlier. What's so addicting about the stuff? Have you ever tried it?"

"So curious," he said, looking amused. "I won't lie to you. There used to be a man I knew in my days as a soldier who was completely addicted to the stuff. I don't know how it was never noticed. Maybe it was just overlooked. He was out on a mission once, and a few of the men, myself included, decided to raid the chest in his tent to see if we were right about him… needless to say, everything was in there, hidden within other bigger things, and we tried it out. We were almost always drunk when we were encamped, really, so it wasn't a big deal at the time. There are really very few things I haven't tried, honestly. It's a good thing I didn't like it right away, because looking back, it was a pretty dangerous thing to do… I don't remember most of the day. A few of them loved everything about it, and kept going back for more… eventually, he found out, and the new addicts were beaten near death. What a day that was…" He trailed off and gave a small laugh. "I could've been stripped of my position in a heartbeat."

"It sounds like you used to be young and stupid," Seara commented.

"I'm still young and stupid," said Revak. "Aren't we all?"

"Not me!"

"Normally, I would say anyone who told me that was a liar… but in your case, you're probably right. Naïve, but not stupid. Maybe you should try it sometime. What do you say?" He smiled devilishly at her. "Will you be young and stupid with me?"

"I'll think about it."

As they continued on, the trees started to thin and they found themselves alongside a lake. The reflection of the trees in the water was beautiful, and Seara wondered how anything bad could happen in a place like this.

"Is this Lake Honrich?" She asked.

"It is," he responded. He stopped and climbed off his horse, looking out over the lake. "One of the few amazing things about the Rift. I'm going to get a closer look… are you coming?"

Seara had a little trouble getting of her horse, but eventually followed him until they came to a small boat dock off the lakeshore. He took her hand and walked out onto it, not stopping until they reached the very edge. She was reluctant, and he had to pull her part way, but she decided to trust him. They stood to feel the breeze for a few moments, and he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, right before he pushed her over the edge and into the water.

Apparently, she thought, trust had been a bad idea.

She swam to the surface, feeling all the sticky poison wash out of her hair. She sputtered when she lifted her head out of the water, and she wiped her eyes, listening to Revak laugh. It was a wonderful and contagious sound that made her smile despite herself, and she shook her head at him.

"I just wanted you to be able to wash your hair out," he said, unable to keep a straight face. "And to get you back for hitting me in the nose earlier."

She began to realize for the first time how truly handsome he really was as he smiled, and something about his slight northern Nordic accent appealed to her. She knew she'd noticed it before, but she hadn't thought anything of it until now.

"Oh, is that it? Help me out of the water, at least."

He held out his hand to her, and she grabbed it. She saw, for a brief moment, a look in his dark green eyes that said he knew what about to happen, but he didn't have time to fully register it. She pulled hard on his arm, and he stumbled forward and fell over the edge, splashing into the water on his stomach.

She felt him tug on her leg from somewhere underwater, and found herself being pulled under again. She wrestled to break away from him, and when they resurfaced, he splashed her. He washed away what was remaining of the red war paint from his face, shivered slightly at the chilly water, and shook his head like a dog drying itself.

"Is this payback for pitting you against a bug this morning?" He asked, splashing at her again.

"Yep," Seara chirped, flicking a bit of water at him. "Consider us even."

"We know who _you_ are," said one of the two guards outside of the Riften gate roughly two hours later. Both of them were standing with their arms crossed, unmoving. Seara felt a bit self-conscious of her still drying hair, and glanced over at Revak, who was staring them down. "But we don't know who _she_ is. If she's visiting for the first time, she'll have to pay the visitors tax."

"She's with me," Revak said. "That should be enough. You're not collecting a visitor's tax; you're shaking down people who don't know any better. I do, and now she does. Unless you want me to speak to Maven and turn this in my favor, you'll let us through."

"Now, now, Dragonborn," the first guard held his hands out in a gesture to quiet him. "No need to go and do something like that. Keep it quiet, and we'll let it slide. We've got jobs to hold down."

"Not like that," Revak muttered as they pushed the gate open.

On the other side, the scenery changed completely. The colorful trees were missing, and everything seemed to fade into gray. Half of the walkways were made out of wood, looking weathered and rickety. The city was bustling with people, but none of them looked happy to be there. Beggars were everywhere she looked, asking everyone for a coin or two; they were persistent, and sometimes almost forceful. Seara was just about to hand a coin to an unhealthy looking man in rags when Revak stopped her.

"Don't," he told her as he pulled her away. "Keep your belongings close to you, and pay attention. You can tell an honest beggar from a skooma addict by looking at their hands. Watch for trembles."

She spent the next several moments watching people's hands, until she was reprimanded again.

"Eyes up, shoulders straight. Walk like you have a purpose or you'll be a prime target for pickpocketers."

Everyone's eyes were shifty. She didn't like the city at all, and she hadn't been there for more than ten minutes.

"Is there anything that might redeem this place?" She asked as they pushed their way through the crowds of people.

"The Temple of Mara is here," he informed her lightly. "People travel from all over Skyrim to have wedding ceremonies in Riften. The city itself is gloomy, but the temple is nice. I've only ever been in once."

"For what?"

"A few years ago," he began, hushing his voice, "I had a contract that required me to sneak in and take a rather large sum of gold that didn't belong to me… or the person who requested it. I took it from the donation plate. I've felt guilty about it ever since."

"You stole from a temple?"

"Don't be too disgusted with me," he said. "I told you I feel guilty enough already."

"When we met, you told me you weren't a thief. Who would've been slimy enough to request something like that of you?"

Just as she finished the question, she felt something brush against her side, and Revak turned around and grabbed a well-dressed man by the collar. The man spun around, ready to swing a punch, but stopped.

"Brynjolf." Revak held out his hand for something, never lowering his eye contact, and without a word, the man called Brynjolf handed over Seara's coin purse. She hadn't even noticed it was gone.

"Fancy meeting you here again, lad. Come to turn your back on someone else?"

Revak didn't respond, but handed Seara the coin purse and kept walking. She hurried after him, clutching her satchel up near her chest, until they entered the inn.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

**A/N: I particularly enjoyed writing this chapter. That is all.**

As the two of them sat at a table in the Bee and Barb, they discussed the city and Revak's connections to it over a meal and some drinks. Seara hadn't ever seen so many Argonians and Khajiits before in her life. There were sometimes a few of them trading from small tents outside the gates of Whiterun, but never really inside the city. Until she realized how many were in Riften's inn alone, she'd never thought about how many _weren't_ in Whiterun. And not only that, but they were running businesses. She was for equality of all races, but the look in their eyes was rather suspicious all the time.

"I don't think I'll ever stop having questions for you," she said, pushing her plate away as she finished her food. "How did you know who that man was? Brynjolf."

"Keep your voice down," Revak ordered, looking around. "I was honest with you when we met. _Nid nok, okaaz miin. _No lies. I am not a thief, but that doesn't mean I wasn't one. I learned a lot about the craft of thievery, but I dislike it here. There are too many ties, too many memories. I worked with the guild on the side, when the Stormcloak army was in waiting. It was extra coin, places to be and see, and things to do. Again, I could've been stripped of my position. It's in the past. When I left I swore against them and their ways, and they considered it the greatest act of betrayal I could've come up with."

"Some things need to be done," Seara told him. "Imagine wanting to be married at the temple you stole from. Oh, that's actually happening."

Revak laughed at himself, looking over at the priest of Mara who was standing around telling random travelers about goodness and love.

"Believe me," he said. "There was a time when it would have been shamefully easy."

They were silent for a few moments, and Seara noticed the occasional glances coming their way. It was just like when he'd first arrived in Whiterun, only the people seemed to be much more standoffish, as if they knew he wasn't quite as good as everyone else made him out to be. She asked him if everyone here treated him that way, and he told her no, but that several of the people they were seeing now were once harassed by him and his "friends." Wanting to take his mind off of it, he reached down to pick up a lute that was sitting against the wall by their table.

"Can you play?" Seara asked, leaning forward and propping her head in her hands.

"Barely…" He chuckled. "I'd say I've had enough mead to try." He plucked a few notes that didn't sound right, and winced. He tried again, and it sounded a little better. "There we go."

He smiled slightly as he played a simple melody a few times in order to get it just right, and seemed to become absorbed in it as he continued. The tune changed, and began to sound slightly haunting, in a beautiful way, and he quietly hummed along to it with his eyes closed. There was something otherworldly about the song that Seara couldn't place. His voice was low as he transitioned from humming into actual words, and she could tell he wasn't used to singing in front of anyone. She had never wanted to sing along to a song so badly, but as the words left his mouth, she had no idea how.

"_Dahmaan, kiir, prem ahrk praan. Morah, dovah, dreh ni loan hin hahnu. Meyz, kul, kos kril ahrk krif. Alok, revak kendov, kron ahrk lahney. Dahmaan, hun, prem ahrk praan…"_

He trailed off, thinking about the words he'd just sung, and appeared personally affected by them. Looking toward the ceiling, he sighed.

"Hmm." He shook his head at his own thoughts, and a small sideways smile flashed across his lips. Seara could barely hear him when he spoke again. "I've never sung the words before. Only hummed the melody. It's as if they came to me out of nowhere... I'm still learning about myself."

"What _was _it?" Seara asked, still in awe. The tune had given her chills, and she couldn't quite shake them.

"The _Dovahlovaas,_" he murmured, still lost in thought. "The Dragonsong."

"It's beautiful. I've never heard anything like it. Your name was in there…" she continued in a whisper, so the surrounding travelers wouldn't hear her. "'Revak.' Does it translate?"

"Kind of. _Revak_ means sacred." He ran a hand through his dark red hair, looking pensive. "It wouldn't sound the same sung in our language. It wouldn't even come close. It's almost… well, it's a lullaby."

"You mean it would be sung for children? Like we would do?" Seara couldn't believe the similarities between them and such monstrous creatures. She was tempted to think it was a myth, or just a lie.

"Yes!" He beamed. "I would love to have a child raised on that song one day. Every _dovah_ knows it; they hear it from the time they're born, until they day they die. That's… that's thousands and thousands of years. Just the tune of it, without the words, has been enough to make me feel like I can go on. That's what it's meant to do. 'Remember, child, patience and rest. Focus, dragon, do not question your dream. Come, son, be brave and fight. Arise, sacred warrior, conquer and live. Remember, hero, patience and rest.' It's a song of transformation. The young_ dovah_ starts out as a mere child and grows to be a warrior and a hero, but always returns to his ways of patience and restfulness, even as a figure of importance. The only other song that makes me feel like that one does is 'The Dragonborn Comes.' It's strange. To hear songs written and sung about legends _I'm_ fulfilling. The dragons…" He thought for a moment. "They're just like us, you know."

"You pity them?"

"That's hard to say. As a man, I've made terrible life choices, Seara." Something about the way he said her name in his accent made the feelings in deep within her come to life again. "They're the same. I cannot place blame on a _dovah_ for turning down the wrong path."

"They're killing innocent people, though—"

"Haven't I? These hands have taken lives, love."

"That's different. You… they didn't die without deserving it. You were attacked by bandits, or… You were in a war."

"_Aam?_ What makes that any different? No war is exactly justified, is it? The men I killed had wives and children. Families. I would search the bodies and find love letters, Amulets of Mara…" He looked up at her. "Wedding rings. And for what? Because we have different legislative views? No. That's not something a person deserves to die for. I may stand at Ulfric's side unshakably, but that doesn't mean I'm blind to the things we've done. The same thing goes for the Imperials. They've killed our men, _pruzah—_good—men, but after a while, you start to see the pain in their eyes. A man who finds joy in killing is a terrible soul. The Dark Brotherhood... to rid my homeland of them would be the only form of killing I would take pride in."

The hour was growing late. Somewhere in the inn, a bard began to sing 'The Dragonborn Comes.' Revak scanned the room until he found her, and she nodded at him. As he listened to her sing, he removed some sort of amulet from one of his pockets, turned it over in his hand, and clutched the pendant part of it in his fist, holding it near his heart. It was an Amulet of Talos, and Seara assumed he hadn't been wearing it due to the laws in several cities banning his worship. The laws had recently been negated, but persecution from many citizens who sided with the Empire was still rampant. When the bard finished the song, Revak put on the amulet and strode over to her, handing her several gold pieces and saluting her. She mimicked him, smiling softly, and wished him well.

As he was headed back to the table, the doors to the inn opened, and a brunette woman stepped inside. Her face was fixed in a permanent scowl, and several people stopped talking at the sight of her. Her leather armor was similar to Revak's, but brown, made to fit a feminine figure, and much tighter. The boots almost came to her knees and had heels on them, but somehow, she was nearly silent when she walked. Her hair only came to her shoulders, and she might have been beautiful if she didn't come off as having such a nasty attitude. Revak's eyes followed her as she walked to the bar and demanded a drink; the Argonian woman who was bartending handed it to her out of fear, not asking for any money in return.

"Do you know her?" Seara asked quietly.

"Let's go. We can come back later."

"Why? Who is she?"

"Don't worry about it right now."

He started to lead her toward the door, but the woman called after them.

"Hey!" she yelled. She sauntered over to where they stood, and put a hand on her hip as she looked Revak up and down. She grabbed his hand and led him over to a side room filled with ingredients for cooking, and Seara followed them. The woman glanced sideways at her, pursing her lips. "I'd like to speak to him alone, if you don't mind."

"No," Revak said. "Whatever you have to say can be said in front of her, Sapphire."

"Oh," Sapphire chimed, sounding sickeningly pleasant. "What's with the god-man amulet? Have you turned into someone 'righteous' all of a sudden? Hard to believe… you told me you'd denounced it all. Pretty necklace aside, I was just going to comment on how you're still wearing your thief's armor. Looks like you've modified it, though. So I figured we could play a little game… it's called, 'how much more of a traitorous son of bitch can the Dragonborn become?'"

"Anything else?" Revak asked, sounding bored.

"I place you somewhere worse than Karliah before we knew she was innocent, and somewhere just under Mercer Frey, quickly approaching his level."

"From what I hear, his standing as a traitor didn't stop you from sleeping with him."

Sapphire tilted her head to the side with a fake smile.

"It wouldn't stop me from sleeping with you again, either."

Seara saw Revak's jaw clench, and he shot a quick look at her, not knowing what to say. Sapphire's gaze shifted to her as she continued.

"She's too innocent for you," she said. "It's a shame you had to go and say I couldn't talk to you alone; now your doe-eyed pet knows more about you than she needed to. What else have you conveniently forgotten to mention, Dovahkiin? Too much, I'm sure. Anyway, since she already knows all about it, what do you say we forget about your bastard status and be what we always were?" She placed a finger on his chest and slowly dragged it down the length of his torso, stopping at his belt. "Two people who don't know each other's names, stealing from temple donation plates and sneaking off into the Cistern when everyone else is in the Flagon."

She grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him toward her, biting her lip.

"Forceful as always, hmm?" Revak brushed her hand away. "Do what I did, and take up something different. Grow up. Thieving can't be the only thing you're good at, Sapphire."

"Of course it isn't." She smirked. "You already know the other things I'm good at."

"Stop."

"What's the matter? Afraid your inexperienced little shadow will hear too much, now?"

"Don't talk about me and act like I'm not here," Seara said angrily, sounding braver than she felt. "You know nothing about me."

"Please." Sapphire laughed cruelly. "I can tell from a mile away you've never slept with a man. I'm right, aren't I? Oh… listen carefully, honey. _That's why he likes you. _He wanted a break from ladies like me. A challenge. Someone green… a girl he can conquer like an animal and then toss to the side."

Seara felt her face turn red, and she clenched her teeth and swallowed hard to hold back the tears of embarrassment that were threatening to come.

"You're not a lady," Revak snarled, glaring daggers at her. "You're a harlot." He took Seara's hand and led her away as Sapphire continued to give off icy cackles behind them. He intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed, but her throat still felt tight.

"I'm going to need a room," he told the Argonian behind the counter. "Possibly two."

He turned to look at Seara, who was staring at the floor, and grabbed both of her arms just below her shoulders.

"Look at me," he said. "I understand if you want a separate room. I don't blame you. I'll pay for it… I would just rather we didn't have to do that here."

She felt relatively numb, but knowing she would regret being angry with him, shook her head and made herself smile.

"Just one," she confirmed, holding up a finger.

The Argonian woman led them both to a room and unlocked it without a word. She looked rather unhappy, Seara thought, but she hadn't really ever observed the facial expressions of an Argonian.

"Keerava," Revak called as she started to walk away.

"Hmm?"

"I wanted to apologize for the trouble the Guild has caused you."

Keerava said nothing.

"I'm no longer a member. Truthfully," he added. "I can't ever make up for all the hurt I've caused you, especially after you've worked so hard to get where you are. I respect you. Please… take me at my word."

She nodded slightly, and headed down the hall and out of sight. He entered the newly unlocked room and Seara followed him, and when they were both inside, he closed the door and fiddled with the lock.

"I locked it again," he told her quietly. "But that doesn't mean much here. Make sure you keep your bag hidden. Not in drawers or anything, either. Under the bed is a good place."

There was an odd silence between the two of them, and Seara hated it. She'd been having a good day, oversized spider aside, and a good conversation. She found that the things which ruined a day often happened so quickly, she was blindsided by them. Sapphire was one of those things. She sighed heavily, trying to rid herself of all the negative emotions, but instead of going away, they all came out at once and she started to cry.

"No," Revak said, sounding stressed. "Don't do that."

She looked over at him and it only got worse. He made her sit down next to him on the edge of the bed and put an arm around her, not entirely sure what to say.

"Don't take anything someone like Sapphire says to heart. It's how she's grown up. She didn't have a childhood like yours. Hers… was more like mine. The only difference is that she never moved past it. The way she acts is the only way she knows how.

"You were attracted to it…"

"No, Seara, I wasn't. I told you a while back that I occupied my time with women like her, because they were there."

"But you gave me some sort of idea, I guess, that you were always thinking of me while I was waiting for you to come back. It's… stupid."

"I'm sorry I made you think that way, but I wasn't. You were always special to me, and I always knew I wanted to see you again, but things were different for me than they were for you." He paused. "It wasn't stupid of you to feel like that… I wish it were true. Sapphire made it sound terrible by turning it on me negatively, but that _is _why I like you. Sometimes we grow up, and sometimes we don't. If you'd thrown yourself at me, it would've been extremely unattractive… because that's not the girl I knew who was almost too shy to save my life. You're better than she is. I don't want an emotionless relationship with you like I had with her. You and I may be different in several ways, but we're the same in more than you think. I've never been in love, and neither have you. I have never wanted anything more."

Seara smiled a small smile, and put her head on his shoulder. She didn't understand how someone could so readily give everything away to a stranger on a whim. Revak definitely wasn't a stranger, but even after spending so much time with him, she still didn't feel like she could've been ready. In fact, the thought terrified her. It wasn't that she found him untrustworthy, but rather that big steps had never been in her nature. The small steps were there, however, and she loved them. She loved that it was so easy to take his hand and let him lead, she'd learned to love the feeling of being pursued, and she was currently loving how open, yet patient, he was being with her. She may still have been too afraid for anyone other than herself to see too much of her body, but nothing sounded better than lying next to him and falling asleep. Maybe, she thought, it was time for her to take a few more small steps.

"I don't think I've ever said it out loud," she started. "But I forgive you for your past. If you're moving forward, so am I. So…" Her voice grew faint, and she felt her cheeks getting warm again. She looked away from him shyly and began to take off her boots. "Do you have a shirt I can borrow tonight?"

"Why?" He asked, smirking at her.

"Why else?"

"Oh, I know why. I just want to hear you say it."

Seara threw a nearby extra pillow at him.

"No, I don't have one," he lied, picking up the pillow. "Sorry. But if you stopped being so embarrassed around me I might be able to come up with one."

"I want to wear it."

"Where? It's cold outside at night. You should go with something warmer."

She dropped her shoulders, giving him a pleading look.

"Hmm… nope, I still don't think I have one." He started to take off pieces of his armor. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired."

"I want to wear it to bed."

"I think you'll have to be more specific. Which bed?"

Seara laughed, as they were sitting on the only bed in the room.

"This one. With you in it."

"You're sleeping with me? That's just inappropriate."

"No, I'm sleeping _next_ to you, _in_ your shirt, _on _this bed."

"Oh, good. What a relief, I was _so_ embarrassed."

"Stop that!"

He sniggered at her and rummaged through his things, tossing her a plain white shirt. She demanded he turn around while she changed, so he took his own shirt off and got in bed, laying on his stomach and facing the wall. When she was finished dressing, she was somewhat shy, but felt alright about it. The shirt came to mid-thigh, and the sleeves were long enough on her that they reached the middle of her upper arms. The split neckline partially revealed her collarbones.

"_Gods!_" Revak exclaimed in mock-horror when he turned over and sat up. He leaned back on his elbows for support, and she saw a brief hint of longing in his eyes. "I can see your knees… You're terrible."

She climbed into the bed and under the covers next to him, untying her long hair and letting it fall down her back. She laid her head on his chest next to the amulet he was still wearing, and draped one arm over his stomach, resting her hand over the arrow scars. The bed was only made for one person, but it was cozy. She realized he'd looked at her like she was something new he'd never seen before, and she knew they were feeling an emotion that was completely foreign to them both.

"You really _have_ never been in love with anyone before," she said, closing her eyes. The chilling melody of the Dragonsong filled her mind in time with his heartbeat, lulling her to sleep.

"I get closer and closer every day," he responded, running a hand through her hair.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Seara was warm.

Inside and out, warmth and affection were covering her. It was caused by a combination of many things; there was the comforting softness of the blankets that were draped over her, the heat from Revak's body as he held her waist with both hands, his breath on her ear as he whispered things she could barely understand and she whispered back, the feeling of his lips on her neck. There was a swirling of adoration within her, starting in her stomach and floating around in her chest, building and building and spilling over with every word she said to him. The sensation of releasing everything she'd held in for so long overtook her as their hands wandered and neither one made a move to stop the other; as she caught his eyes, he asked a hesitant question with them. It was a simple question; two words at most— keep going? She responded by way of a kiss, one that answered with a definite yes… and then woke up.

It was sometime in the middle of the night when she sat up straight. The room was dark except for a lone lantern on the dresser, looking like it hadn't been lit all that long ago. As she looked to her side, Revak wasn't even there. How could he have been so quiet that he didn't wake her? She flopped back down on the bed, curling up on her side and pulling the blankets closer to her. She buried herself in them, feeling like she could've gotten lost. They smelled like him, and for a moment, she was brought back to her dream. It was slightly scary that he was gone and she didn't know where he was, but what terrified her the most was that small, brief empty feeling of disappointment that accompanied waking up.

She wondered, as she lay in her blanket cocoon, what the dream could've meant. Did she have it because of Sapphire's crude comments, and her mind was just sorting everything out? Or could it have been that she was simply experiencing her braver side? She wanted to believe that it was a direct result of finding out about Revak's past with Sapphire, but the gnawing feeling of frustration at the fact that she was awake wasn't helping. She attempted to push the thoughts from her mind, but every time she took a breath, his scent filled her, and the same warmth from the dream began to expand like clouds somewhere between her stomach and her lungs. Irritated, she got out of bed and pulled on a pair of ordinary black trousers and her boots, deciding to leave his shirt on after a great mental debate. Unable to find the string she'd used to tie her hair back the previous day, she let it fall naturally and figured it might keep her warmer. She pulled her cloak around herself, realizing that she was wearing a particularly odd combination of clothes, and quietly opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

There were a few people left in the main room, most of them too drunk and depressed to want to go anywhere else. Seara couldn't blame them; the life in Riften really must have been horrible. The crime rates were the highest in all of Skyrim, maybe even in all of Tamriel itself, and she couldn't imagine living that way every day. As for right now, however, she was going to keep her dagger close, and hope no one gave her a reason to use it. She knew Revak would hardly approve of her wandering the streets of such a crime-ridden place at night, but he was also the one who told her she needed to learn to defend herself. And where was he? Certainly not in the room or the inn to stop her. She pushed her way through the large doors they'd used when they first entered, and inhaled the fresh air.

Or at least, she expected it to be fresh. Instead, it smelled like lake water and fish. Seeing as how Riften was home to many fishermen, she decided this shouldn't surprise her. The cool breeze helped clear her mind more than the clean air would have anyway, and she took a quick look around as she began to walk forward. There wasn't anyone else on the streets except for the occasional posted guard, by the looks of it. She took a moment to find the small dagger in her satchel and grabbed it, holding it down by her side. Even though there were guards around, it meant nothing. Two of them had attempted to shake her down earlier, just like thieves. She continued toward the marketplace cautiously, attempting to look innocent of crime, but brave enough to fight. She leaned up against the wooden railing outside a merchant's small stall, and stared over it and down into the water below. Apparently there was a whole lower level of the city, but something about it gave her an odd feeling, and she decided it wasn't somewhere she'd particularly like to explore.

"This one has something for me?"

The sudden question startled Seara, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn't even heard anyone approach her, and the voice was right behind her. She quickly turned around, coming face to face with a Khajiit in tattered clothing. A swift glance at his clawed hands was all she needed to determine why he was out. They were trembling uncontrollably, and she got the feeling that he wasn't attempting to hide it. She shook her head at him, unable to speak, and he emitted a low growl.

"This one must have skooma for Q'draan, certainly she does. Q'draan cannot go on much longer. What honest woman is prowling the streets at night from boredom?"

"I… I really have nothing for you," Seara stuttered. "I should go back inside."

"This one should have stayed inside in the first place, if she is not looking for trouble. Perhaps this one has gold, or something else of worth Q'draan may have for the taking."

He started to move closer to her, eyeing the satchel at her side and ignoring the dagger. If he wanted to hurt her, the tiny blade would have been no match for his sharp claws. She heard frantic and low voices in the distance, sounding argumentative, and took a chance to look around for the source.

"That house is supposed to be empty, Aerin!" said a woman. Her accent was thick, and when Seara caught sight of her, she looked heavily armed and was walking next to a nearly unarmed man. She may have been a skilled warrior, and in a split second decision, Seara threw her into the conversation.

"I was waiting for them!" She maintained eye contact with Q'draan the Khajiit, who glanced at the man and woman approaching the marketplace, and after several moments, he turned from her and sulked off into the shadows. Having heard her exclamation, the blonde woman looked in her direction in an untrustworthy sort of way, and started toward her.

"Who are you, and why are you waiting for us?" She asked. Half of her face was covered in blue paint, making it hard to determine what she actually looked like. The man next to her, who she had referred to as Aerin, was carefully watching the shadows.

"I wasn't," Seara answered quietly. That Khajiit was going to try and take my things. I had to say something."

"Can't you defend yourself?"

"No." She felt humiliated.

"He's still watching you," Aerin told her, his voice barely audible. "She'd better come with us, Mjoll."

Mjoll didn't look too happy about having gained another follower, especially one that couldn't defend herself, let alone put up a fight.

"I don't need to go wherever you're going," Seara said. "I just need to walk back to the inn without him following me there. If you go with me, he—"

"I'm not making detours," Mjoll insisted. "It's suspicious. We have a small problem to take care of, and you'll come with us while we do it. Stay hidden, and you'll stay safe. Then, if you did as I told you and survived, we can get you back to the inn. As of right now, I suppose I could use another pair of eyes. Follow me like you know where you're going."

The three of them started to walk toward the city walls, which required passing the inn, and Seara considered running from them and back inside. The fact that Q'draan was probably still watching stopped her from doing so, and she listened to Mjoll and Aerin argue as they moved along.

"You have no idea what could be in there, Mjoll."

"I don't care what's in there. Honeyside is supposed to be unoccupied. That's supposed to be _our _house. I won't stand for people breaking into the house we're ready to buy, using it for shady deals and the like. I can fight. That's why they call me the Lioness."

"I know, but sometimes I worry about you… you tend to be a bit, well, too brave."

"Wait," Seara interjected. "You have no idea what we'll be up against?"

Mjoll rolled her eyes.

"_I_ believe _I _will simply be up against a couple of skooma dealers. I've heard rumors recently about their growing presence. I don't want them in a house I consider to be my own. Aerin here always jumps to conclusions. I've fought—and survived—things much worse than men and women with drug problems."

"Oh, like Dwarven Centurions?" Aerin mocked. "You only survived because I found you."

"And for that," Mjoll said as they reached the door to Honeyside, "I thank you. I can never thank you enough. But one loss means nothing to me. I can do this. I've traveled the world. There's nothing I haven't seen, and I won't stand for these filthy addicts and Guild members using such a beautiful home for their lawlessness."

She took a lockpick out of one of the compartments attached to her belt, and began to work on the door in front of them. It clicked softly, and she pushed it open. There were voices coming from inside, but no one could be seen.

"Here's the plan," Mjoll whispered. "Aerin will sneak ahead and observe, hopefully without being spotted, and then he'll report back. You'll stay behind me. If all else fails, you have a dagger."

Seara cursed herself for ever leaving the room in the first place, barely breathing as they crossed over the threshold and Mjoll unsheathed a steel greatsword. She looked uncomfortable wielding it, as if it wasn't hers at all, and Aerin moved forward with light steps, peering around the first corner. Seara was more than happy to lie back in the shadows and attempt to wish herself invisible… until she heard something that made her breath catch in her throat. A throaty laugh belonging to a male, followed by a few mocking words.

"One contract all bound up, and another on the way, hmmm? Unless she's too much of a coward to even walk the streets at night. But a lovely lady like her isn't going to want to stay outside the inn, is she? We know where she'll be. Maybe, if she doesn't show up, we'll just have to off you two separately."

"It's too bad, really," said a second voice, this one female. "I was hoping to do it in front of her."

Feeling her stomach flip, Seara raced forward, pushing past Aerin.

"_What are you doing?" _Hissed Mjoll. "Get back here!"

Seara ignored her and stopped in the doorway of an empty, cobwebbed room. She sidled against the wall, and peered around the corner, confirming her suspicions.

A man and a woman, dressed in characteristic black and red armor, paced the floor in front of Revak, who was sitting on a plain wooden chair. His wrists and ankles were tied, rendering him immobile, and a cloth was pulled tightly around his mouth. His chest was rising and falling with obvious rage, and his eyes were saying nothing less than "kill." He must have gone out to complete a contract, and been caught. She was torn, wanting to distract them, but wishing to remain hidden at the same time.

"Would you look at that," said the first assassin to the second. They couldn't have been more than initiates; they were dawdling for far too long. "He's angry. I bet he'd just love to yell at us, since that's what he does best. Where's your voice now, Dragonborn?"

The female assassin's dark eyes narrowed as she bent down and picked up a small case from the floor and opened it. She stuck her finger inside, and it was covered in black paint when she removed it. She smiled evilly as she examined it, proceeding to dip the whole palm of her hand in. She held it out to him, letting some of the paint drip off onto the floor.

"You've seen this, haven't you? The black handprint. You've killed so many innocent souls; we've undoubtedly sent you our little anonymous letter. But you ignored us." She frowned at her partner, and then sneered at Revak. "Why? You would be perfect for the job. Who would expect you? Such a noble character you are, no one would think you'd be one to mingle with cold-blooded killers. No one thought you would associate yourself with thieves, either. But you've turned away from that, hmm. Here you came, ready to stop a skooma deal that's gotten out of hand, only to be blindsided by us. If sneaking around is what you enjoy, the offer is still open."

Revak continued to glare at her, unblinking.

"Another declined invitation, I suppose. Oh well, it was worth a try. Maybe I'll kill you with your own weapon. But first…" The woman stepped forward and moved around to his side, where she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back. She stamped her handprint over the cloth covering his mouth, and cackled. "I'm enjoying the irony of this symbolism, aren't you?"

Just then, she caught sight of Seara in the doorway, and smirked at her.

"Looks like I might get my wish after all."

The other assassin drew his dagger, readying himself for a fight.

"Overkill," said the woman, sounding indifferent to Seara's presence. "She can't fight. Really, girl, you should be honored he even drew a weapon at all." She grabbed the back of Revak's neck as tight as she could, and forced him up out of the chair and to the floor. The moment his knees hit the floor, there was a sickening crack, and Seara could see the pain in his eyes.

"Mjoll!" She yelled. Mjoll came charging into the room, holding her sword steady with both hands, and the assassins ran at her, ready to take out the only threat.

While they were distracted, Seara sprinted over to Revak to cut his ties, and he wrenched the dagger from her hands as soon as she was done with his ankles and wrists. Still on his knees, he sliced through the handprint stamped cloth that was gagging him and threw it to the floor. He managed to cut the side of his face in the process, and a thin line of blood ran over his jaw and down his neck.

"_Get out of the way!"_ He yelled. Seara got behind him as fast as she could, and Mjoll nearly trampled Aerin as she made her way back into the hallway. Realizing he wasn't tied up anymore, the assassins quickly turned their attention to him. He waited until they were almost right in front of him before he shouted.

"_Fus ro dah!"_

The rage in his voice was obvious; Seara had never heard anything bellowed with so much anger behind it. As if something huge and invisible had hit them, the assassins flew backward, colliding with the opposite wall at the same time and dropping to the floor. The woman was already dead; the force of the shout slamming her against the wall had broken her neck. The one who remained alive stirred slightly on the ground, and Mjoll leapt forward and drove her blade through his chest. The sudden silence in the house was eerie.

"I take back what I said earlier," Mjoll began hesitantly. "I've seen many things in my travels… but nothing… never anything like that."

Revak's eyes were closed, and as he attempted to stand, one of his knees cracked again.

"You can't walk," Aerin said. "When she forced you down, something happened to your leg."

"I'm fine," Revak assured them. He obviously wasn't fine; he was putting most of his weight on his left leg. "Mjoll, is it? Report this to a guard. I'm taking Seara back to the inn."

"No," Seara objected. "You're letting me fix your knee."

"There's nothing wrong with me. Don't. I can handle it."

He started down the hall and toward the door, trying as hard as he could to walk normally, putting weight on both legs.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, readying her hands. "You're making it worse than it already is."

"I said _don't touch me."_ He growled. He'd never sounded that way when speaking to her before, and she was taken aback by it.

"Alright." She said simply. She turned toward Mjoll and Aerin, trying to hide her anger. "I'm sorry you both got mixed up in this. Thank you, anyway… I hope to see you again."

She strode out of the room and the house with her shoulders straight, not thinking whatsoever about the city's crime rates or leaving Revak behind. He could fend for himself. She barged into the inn again and stomped up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. The lantern on the dresser was still lit, and as she moved to put it out, she saw a small package next to it that she hadn't noticed in her earlier sleepy state.

It was a simple piece of parchment, folded up and tied off with the black string she used to pull her hair back most days. That explained why she couldn't find it, she thought. Curious, she untied it, and a piece of jewelry fell out of the parchment folds and into her hand. It was unmistakable, with its seven golden circles of different sizes and intricate symbols. She was holding an Amulet of Mara, and at the thought of it, her fingers trembled. She unfolded the parchment the rest of the way, feeling her throat tighten unexpectedly. There were only a few words written on it.

_Ready whenever you are._


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**A/N: Short chapter this time, but thank you guys sooo much for sticking with this story! The reviews have been so encouraging, and so many people have told me they just can't let it go. That means so much, honestly. I never even dreamed I would've had reviews as awesome as these! You have all really helped me become more confident in my writing abilities… so don't stop reviewing! I always like to know what your thoughts are!**

Seara stood still, staring at the amulet and parchment she had in her shaking hands. She was unable to take her eyes off of them; eventually she forced herself to put them down, but her gaze was still fixed on the words he'd written.

_Ready whenever you are._

She read them over and over again, until she heard footsteps outside the door and Revak entered, looking pale and pained. He made his way over to the bed and sat down, making sure to keep his right leg straight as he carefully lifted it. He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

"You were supposed to find that when you woke up. Which ideally would have been right about now, and I would have been back, and things wouldn't have looked like this. But that's just the ideal way."

Seara was silent.

"This is not the ideal way," he told her.

Both of them were quiet for a while, until she couldn't take it anymore.

"What happened this morning?" She asked.

"Why did you follow me?"

"You answer first."

"No," Seara said.

"Alright," Revak gave in. "Which 'what' were you wanting to know about?"

"All of it. Where did you originally go, how did you end up almost murdered by those assassins, and… why were you mad at me?"

"I wasn't mad—"

"_Nid nok." _The words were out before Seara even knew she could say them, and Revak stared at her, almost like a defiant child who'd just been scolded. "No lies."

"I got up early this morning to take care of a 'contract,'" he said, looking disappointed with himself. "I was supposed to put an end to a couple of skooma dealers here in the city, taking up residence in Honeyside. It sounded easy enough, until I snuck in and the Dark Brotherhood was waiting for me. It was all a trap… and they were looking for you, too. I should have known. I'm smarter than that. I was worried about making it back here before you got up, and I was mad because you followed me, _again,_ even after I made it clear that you shouldn't."

"Mjoll would have killed all three of you. She would've had no way of knowing who you were if I wasn't there," Seara countered. "You could have died if I hadn't shown up."

"Better me than you."

"What?" she huffed. "No, it isn't. This is a two way road, Revak. If you died, I…" she trailed off.

"You what?"

"I… I don't know, okay!" She held out the amulet. "This would mean nothing."

"Does it mean anything now?" Revak asked. "_Nid nok."_

Seara swallowed, feeling nervous.

"Of course it does," she said. "I wasn't trying to follow you when I left the room earlier. I wanted to get some fresh air, because I needed to clear my head. I had just woken up from a dream that I couldn't shake… about you."

"You should tell me about it."

"I'd rather not." Seara felt her face flush, and he raised his eyebrows at her knowingly, shrugging. "That aside, when I see this amulet, I can't think of anyone else but you. The thought of someone else isn't right. It's unsettling, even. But it's hard for me to focus on that feeling right now, especially after you yelled at me for trying to help you."

He looked away from her, suddenly concentrating very hard on the wood paneled wall.

"And you have nothing to say about it," she muttered.

"It's not that I have nothing to say about it," Revak said plainly. "It's hard for me to say."

"I want you to say it anyway. You want to _marry_ me." Seara clutched the amulet in one fist, and held up the parchment in another. "Things are going to be harder than just saying a few words reluctantly."

He sighed.

"You know," he began, "You're the only one who has ever witnessed my failures. When I was nearly killed by those bandits, you helped me. When I walked straight into a trap set by the Dark Brotherhood, _you_ were there to see it. I'm a man, Seara. I don't do failure easily. To me, that puts me in your eyes as a failure. I wanted to succeed at something, so I walked across town with a knee injured who knows how badly, and up some stairs, and here I am. I made it."

"You don't have the right to determine how I see you," Seara whispered. She couldn't believe what he was telling her. She'd never heard anything more ridiculous. "A failure? You're the _Dragonborn_."

"That's exactly what I mean!" He said, sounding frustrated. "Yes, I'm the _Dovahkiin_. There it is. That's it. It makes me _perfect._ No! I'm _real_. I get angry when I don't succeed in the goals I set for myself, so I push myself harder and harder, and sometimes, today for instance, I get a little crazy. You make me absolutely insane. But sometimes I think you forget… I'm just as human as you are."

She thought for a moment before speaking.

"Maybe sometimes I do forget," she admitted. "Think of who I am. I'm the girl who'd never left Whiterun, who was, and still is, afraid of her own shadow. I can't fight; I don't look 'tough' in the slightest. For a while, I wasn't even brave enough to let you lead me. I would say it's obvious that we're two complete opposites who were never meant to even meet… but now, it's getting easier. I can't wait for you to take my hand and show me things I haven't seen. I traveled, _alone, _a halfway here… for you. But I'm still me… I'm worried about what Til is thinking of me, or what Ysolda will say when I come back after telling no one I was leaving. I get scared. I want to appear better in your eyes, just like you said you want to appear better in mine. But I don't want to marry a man who's always the only one showing the extent of his care for me. That's nice, but _I_ want to show _you_ too. Maybe, just maybe, we should stop trying to prove ourselves, and admit that we love each other the way we already are."

She paused, suddenly feeling nervous. Love? The word had spilled out of her mouth before she'd given it any thought. Did she mean it? It was too late to take it back now, and she hadn't only spoken for herself, but for him as well. There was an odd silence, and she felt her eyes start to sting. Willing to focus on anything but the weight of nothing hanging around them, she sat down at the foot of the bed and took off his boot. She began to gingerly roll up his pant leg, assessing the damage to his knee.

It was severely bruised and discolored, and part of the skin and broken. The bones looked like they might have been fractured in some spots, and she couldn't believe he'd stood on it, let alone walked across town.

"This might hurt for a second," she told him, avoiding eye contact. He didn't say anything to acknowledge her, and she cleared her throat, feeling jittery. "I have to realign it before I use the spell, or it'll heal funny."

She placed her hands on either side of it, pushing hard on the bones and feeling them crack and then move into place. Expecting him to yell something profane at the pain, like most of the people with broken bones she'd healed, she was surprised at his choice of words.

"Agh," he groaned, wincing. He turned his grimace into a hesitant sideways smile, and gave a pained laugh. "I love you too."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**A/N: Sorry for the long pause, guys! Everyone hits a rough patch every now and then. Rest assured, I'm continuing!**

Revak only allowed himself a single day of rest before inevitably saying the two of them needed to head back to Whiterun. His knee was bruised but useable, and he certainly wasn't going to let it stop him. Seara didn't protest; she was more than excited to get back into the swing of things at home and as far away from Riften and its high crime rate as possible. Before they left, they made a small detour so Revak could pay off what he considered to be his debt to the temple, and the priests and priestesses were astounded by his generosity. The whole time, Seara could see in his eyes how terrible he felt, and even though he may not have explained the reasoning behind the amount of gold he'd given, she could tell he'd grown up exponentially since the time when he'd taken it.

They'd been on the road for a day already, had stopped for the night in Ivarstead even though Seara said she could handle going straight through, and were beginning their second day when she realized how comfortable she was. In fact, she didn't realize it until he told her not to get comfortable.

"You never know what's on the roads out here, _brit._" He glanced at her as he made the final adjustments on his armor and checked that his bow was secure on his back. Sheathing his freshly sharpened steel sword, he narrowed his eyes. "Don't get too comfortable."

"You know me," she told him, lying. "I'm never comfortable."

She climbed onto her horse and watched him do the same, thinking about how funny it was that she actually _was_ comfortable. What an odd time for the thought to hit her, she pondered. His presence had recently made her virtually unafraid. Being alone, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. As they rode away from the small town, she was thankful her horse seemed to know where it was going, because she definitely wasn't paying attention.

Revak had the most genuine smile as he talked about the adventures he'd had in the past. At least, it was the most genuine one _she'd_ ever seen. Maybe she was biased. She laughed quietly, and he looked at her.

"What's so funny?" He asked, still smiling.

"Nothing." Seara tucked her hair behind one of her ears, biting her lip to keep from grinning as much as she wanted to. "It's just… I always thought I'd end up with someone, well… not at all like you. I've been so timid and scared my whole life. Honestly I figured I would end up with a farmer for a husband or something, just like how my parents were. Then, here you came, with your arrow scars and that voice of yours."

"Your father was a sailor on the Katariah in his day," Revak reminded her. "Maybe one day I'll end up selling bread from a stall."

"Maybe, but as for right now… If someone had told me I'd spend my life alongside a man who slays dragons…"

"You would've laughed?"

"No, I would have been scared. It's my default emotion."

"Oh, of course. I forgot."

"Obviously though," she continued, "I've decided I like the idea… I have someone who I know can protect me."

"I think you've decided you love the idea."

Her stomach did an odd sort of flip, and she blushed.

"Race you!" He said spontaneously, flashing a fleeting mischievous grin before he rode ahead.

She followed him, loving the feeling of the wind in her hair and the way her heart pumped in time with the horse's hooves as he galloped down the partially paved path. The sky was gray, but the weather was excellent for the season, and she was up for a challenge. Revak would slow down just enough for her to almost pass him before he'd race off again, usually laughing. Just as she was about to catch up with him for the third time, he pulled back on the reins, causing the horse to stop as abruptly as it could. It backtracked slightly and started to stand on its hind legs, but he calmed it as Seara stopped, a little more slowly, next to him. There was a sign pointing to Whiterun a little way off, and she knew she would be home in about an hour on horseback.

"Why did we stop?" She asked. "I was just about to be ahead!"

"You wish," he said. "There's someone up the road, headed this way. Who does that look like to you?"

Seara squinted, focusing on the outline of the figure approaching them, then drew a sharp breath.

"Til!" She called out.

The figure looked up in their direction and continued to walk closer, unable to maintain a straight line. It was definitely Til, but she looked ill and was stumbling around over her own feet, weaving a path that would have made the local inebriant proud.

"I think she's drunk," Seara said, watching her stagger closer.

Revak dismounted his horse, watching Til curiously. She waved halfheartedly at them, and he walked cautiously over to meet her. As they approached Seara together, she could see the paleness of her skin and the circles under her eyes. Her eyes… they weren't their usual light blue; instead, they were an uncharacteristically brown, almost black. The circles underneath them were extremely prominent, and her blonde hair had dark strands it.

"I, I, I've been looking everywhere for you—you two. W-Where were you?"

"Til, are you okay? You look like you've been drinking…" Seara asked, climbing down from the horse and reaching out to her friend. Til swatted her hand away, curling her top lip into a sneer that had an uncanny resemblance to a snarling dog.

"I haven't had anything to drink. I knew you w-wouldn't go anywhere on your own, so, so, so I got worried when I realized you weren't in town." She swayed dangerously, catching her balance by putting her hands on her knees and doubling over. Her shoulders spasmed, and she stood back up straight. "Because I've been so worried, I've hardly eaten. I'm starving, but I wanted to find you. I'm not drunk. Just so… so hungry."

"I did leave on my own," Seara explained, still concerned. "I needed time away from home, so I could make decisions and form my own opinions without anyone else telling me what they thought. I needed to know how I felt, clearly."

"That's nice," Til said, looking around everywhere but at Seara. She was blatantly distracted. "Something smells good. Do you have food on you?"

"I have an apple from the inn in Ivarstead," Seara told her, pulling the fruit out of her satchel. She held it out to her. "I was saving it for later, but I think you need—"

Til took the apple and let it roll out of her hand and onto the ground, looking disgusted.

"I don't want that."

A sudden look of panic flashed in Revak's eyes, but he quickly hid it.

"Seara," he started, grabbing Til by the shoulders and moving her to the side of the road. "Take the horse and keep going. I'll catch up with you."

"_No!"_ Til growled. Her voice was deep and gravelly, and she cleared her throat. "I know what you're thinking. But I'm fine. I'm better; I can c-c-control myself. It just hurts. It hurts. I'm so hungry…" She started to cry, having finally admitted that she was in severe pain.

"When was the last time, _grohiik kiir?" _Revak asked sternly.

"Ror- Rorikstead. When you were gone in R-Rorikstead."

"Too long. Crying is only going to make it worse," he told her. "I've known others like you. You need to rid yourself of all emotion to stop it. You're not strong enough yet to—"

A bear growled nearby, warning them that they were in his territory, and Revak swore under his breath.

"We're going back to Whiterun," he said quickly. "I suggest you take the time out here to either compose yourself or hunt. Don't enter the city like this."

"I'm not staying here. I'm g-going back with you." She snapped her gaze to the trees behind them, eyeing the bear. "She's wounded. She'll want to protect… to pro…tect…" Her eyes glazed over.

"_Seara, run!_" Revak yelled.

Til hunched over in pain and Seara stood paralyzed as she watched her best friend's clenched teeth grow sharper and more elongated. Her finger nails did the same, and she trembled violently as each of her limbs began to lengthen. The cracking of bones was audible all around them, and the entirety of her body started to grow a layer of thick black fur as her clothing tore away, unable to fit the shape she was becoming. Her figure slowly began to tower over them, and before Seara could get her legs to move, the claws of a fully grown werewolf were leaving their mark on her stomach. She collapsed, holding her hands over the fresh wound, and her vision dimmed as she felt the blood seeping through the tatters of her dress. Soon, all she could do was listen to the chaos around her, and it sounded far away, as if it was floating through a long tunnel. Revak was yelling… yelling… It got quieter over time, and she lost consciousness.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

**A/N: Trying a different viewpoint this time, guys! Thanks for your patience, and don't forget to leave an honest review!**

The werewolf bent forward and let out a terrible roar, but Revak didn't let himself flinch. He stood his ground in front of where Seara lay crumpled on the path, and maintained unblinking eye contact. The creature had identified her as the weakest prey, but was deterred by his defensiveness and turned away, bounding its way toward the horses. He knelt down next to her body and watched helplessly as his horse, and then hers, was brutally killed. That wasn't Til, it couldn't be. The little warrior, the _mal kendov_. She was so small. He wouldn't hurt the creature—he couldn't. But she needed to stop feeding or she would remain a beast, and eventually go feral.

_"Zul mey gut!" _He called out, sending his voice as far away as he could. It echoed off the trees down the road, and the wolf stood up to look around, then began to follow the sound. There would only be a few moments time to gather his wits before she realized she'd been tricked. He closed his eyes for a brief second, willing himself to figure out how to proceed. Because Til was unreachable, it was only him and Seara. He didn't know anything about healing someone else, and only knew basic things about healing himself… The belongings he'd stored away in the pouches on his horse's saddle, such as potions and alchemy ingredients, had just been crushed.

He opened his eyes a little too late as he heard the sound of a massive animal approaching, and turned around with his arm up to block it. The bear, apparently, had had enough threats, and throwing his voice hadn't fooled it at all. He was unable to think as fast as he would've liked, and it sunk its teeth into his forearm. He let out a pained yell, using his other hand to unsheathe his sword before plunging it into the beast's ribcage. He forced it in as far as he could and yanked it downward, and the bear let out a final roar before it fell over on him.

All the breath left his lungs, and it took every bit of strength he could must to pull himself out from under the hulking body and pry his arm from its jaw. He tried to push it off with his voice, but wasn't capable of speech. Surprised none of his bones had been broken, he coughed until his lungs began to work normally again. He crawled a few feet to his left, where he reached out desperately for a piece of the tattered clothing Til had left behind. He ripped it even more, until it was a thin strip of fabric, and began to wrap it tightly around Seara's waist to staunch the bleeding. He tied it off and stumbled to his feet, hearing a thundering crash behind him.

The werewolf had fallen, and was trying to get back up. Its eyes began to lighten, turning blue again, and he knew Til was regaining her own mind. Because of how little she'd fed, the transformation was short-lived. She drug her way into the trees where she was hidden from view, and the painful, whimpering howls started to change into the sobs of a despairing woman. The sounds grew closer as she approached through the trees, but he still couldn't see her.

"Please," she cried. "It hurts. Everything hurts."

Revak was beginning to feel nauseous, and his forearm stung. He could see where the bite wound was bleeding through his bracer.

"You nearly killed Seara," he told her, doing his best not to sound angry. "She's unconscious. I need to get her home somehow."

"I know. I would understand if you hated me. But please, don't leave me."

"_Zu'u ni ahzid, mal kendov._ I'm not bitter. _Drem._" He walked over to where the horses lay, looking through the compartments attached to the saddles for anything that would have still been useable. The smell of the animals' blood was almost unbearable. He found a dress Seara had brought along with her, and aside from a few crimson stains, it was intact. He made his way to the tree line and rolled the dress up, tossing it as far as he could in the direction of Til's voice. "Put that on, and hurry up."

"A dress?"

"Are you complaining?"

She didn't respond.

"I'm going ahead," he said. "Catch up if you want, but I can't wait for you to decide what you want to do."

Revak bent down to scoop Seara up, holding her out in front of him in his arms. Every single one of his bones ached ever since the bear had fallen on him, and she felt much heavier than she actually was. He took a few shaky steps forward before he steadied himself, and started to walk along the path again, not looking back. It was only a few minutes before Til caught up, looking worn down, but better than she had before she transformed. She looked like herself again.

"It's not your fault," he told her before she could say anything. "You weren't yourself."

"Thank you, _Dovahkiin_," she said timidly. He nodded, and his neck was stiff.

"Call me Revak. But only to me or Seara, alright? I don't tell my name to just anyone."

She smiled, and an odd silence followed.

"I'll pay for the horses. I'll just take extra jobs from Farkas or… Vilkas." She sighed. "I didn't want this."

"Who would?"

"So many of them, Revak. So many of them. It's a requirement to be a member of The Circle."

"Then why did you join The Circle?"

"I didn't… I… I didn't do it willingly. But I've owned it. Willingly or not, it's mine. I'd rather not talk about it. Especially not now."

"I understand, _mal kendov._" He repositioned Seara in his arms, trying to figure out a way to hold her so he wouldn't be in pain. It didn't work. "I know plenty about becoming something unwillingly."

"I suppose you would, wouldn't you? But it's your destiny. You wear it well."

"My destiny? _Nid,_ only part of it. If I really am able to stop the dragons from returning, it'll be something I'm remembered for, but I'm destined to do other things too. In the grand scheme of things, it's only a phase."

"You're wise beyond your years, you know." Til looked at Seara, appearing guilty. "I'm glad you chose her. She needs you."

"Nah." Revak paused, feeling ill again. "I need her. Ask her sometime, I'm not a good person."

"I don't believe you."

A sudden throbbing pain shot though his right arm and he stopped in his tracks as it spread into his torso and legs. He forced himself to start walking again, but it felt like his body was going to quit on him right then and there. It was horribly hot, or at least he thought it was, and his vision was blurring.

"Are you alright?" Til asked. She sounded distant.

"…What?"

"I asked if you were alright. You look kind of… unwell."

"Oh…" His head felt like it was traveling a few paces slower than the rest of his body, and the trees were spinning. Where was the ground? He looked down at Seara and blinked several times, trying to clear his vision to no avail. "I'll be fine."

He spotted something in the distance, but he was too dizzy to be able to tell if it was headed toward them or away. It looked like a horse pulling a carriage, but with the way he felt, it could have been anything.

"Is that a carriage?" he asked. Til turned around to look, and nodded. When the man riding the horse was close enough, she motioned for him to stop, looking self conscious in Seara's dress. It was rather loose and a bit too long for her, and everyone in and around Whiterun knew she would never be caught in a dress. The man looked at her curiously.

"How much do you want for a ride back to Whiterun from here? We've got an emergency, as I'm sure you can tell, and it isn't too much further…" she began.

"Say," said the man, looking over at Revak. His knees were about to give out, and he was short of breath.

"Yes?" He asked impatiently.

"Ain't you the Dragonborn?"

Revak stared blankly back at the man and nodded, feeling annoyed, ill, and willing to do anything to get Seara back to Whiterun in a timely manner.

"Well, get in!" he said as he turned the carriage around. They climbed into the back, and Revak laid Seara down on the bench and sat on the floor next to her. Til sat across from them. "It's free this time for you two. I hope the other one there is alright… what happened to her?"

"Bear attack," Til said hastily. "A while down the road in the other direction. Got the horses too."

Revak rested his head against the bench and stared up at the sky and the moving trees as they traveled, feeling worse by the minute. He closed his eyes and kept them shut until they arrived outside the city several minutes later, only standing because he knew he had to. He picked Seara up again and made his way over to the farmhouse her father lived in, barely making it through the door before his body gave up. Falling to his knees, he used his last bit of effort to make sure Seara didn't hit her head on the way down. This startled both her father and Til, who stopped abruptly behind him.

"What's going on?" Seara's father panicked.

"Bear attack," Revak muttered, mimicking what Til had said earlier. He was shaking all over, and this time, he really couldn't stand. There was absolutely no energy left in him, and in the back of his mind, he was embarrassed. Her father carried her over to the bed in the corner of the room and laid her down gently, quickly removing the makeshift bandages Revak had created. Til put a comforting hand on his back as they both watched Seara's father use a healing spell. There was a brief moment of surprise in his foggy thoughts; apparently everyone in her family knew what they were doing when it came to restoration. He made a mental note to learn more about it when this was all over, feeling like he'd somehow let her down.

"There," Her father said as he stepped back and examined his daughter. "Barely even a scar."

Revak laughed, feeling like he was about to go crazy. The amount of relief he felt was insurmountable. His eyes started to burn with the possibility of a few tears, and he just continued to laugh until the feeling went away.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized. His voice was weak. "I shouldn't be laughing. I'm just…"

"Relieved and incredibly sick," Til interrupted. "No matter how many times you say you're fine, I know you aren't."

"You look terrible," said Seara's father.

"I just need to sit for a while, and I'll be okay." He could feel his face getting hot. "I think I just pushed myself too hard. It's my fault in the first place, I'm the reason she left—"

"Nothing was anyone's fault," her father protested. Til looked at the ground.

"I have to go," she said. "I'm glad everyone is going to be okay." She slinked out the doorway and off toward the city before anyone could say otherwise. When she was gone, Revak figured he'd regained just enough energy push himself to stand up and pull a chair over to the bedside, where he finally sat down properly. He watched anxiously as Seara stirred in her sleep, wishing he could be doing the same. The room was still spinning, and his head was pounding, but he wanted to make sure she was alright before he went anywhere else.

"Look at me," her father commanded from somewhere to his left. Revak looked up at him with tired eyes, ready to collapse again. "I see your arm, boy. Did that bear get its teeth into you? Don't lie to me."

"It's not that bad—"

"Answer my question."

"Yes, it bit me, but—"

"I want you to take this bed. I'll move Seara upstairs, and you'll lay here. You've got yourself a nasty case of Bone-Break Fever."

"Oh." Every time he opened his mouth, he came closer to being sick, so he stopped at that. Bone-Break Fever was the perfect explanation for the way he'd been feeling. But he couldn't be sick. Potions of Cure Disease didn't come cheap, and he certainly wasn't strong enough to fetch one from the marketplace right that moment. Seara's father went to move her upstairs like he said he would, but as soon as he started to lift her, she opened her eyes.

"Where's Til?" She asked quickly, pushing his hands away. When she realized where she was, she stopped talking.

"She left," Revak informed her quietly. He didn't even have the strength to speak up.

"And you're going to let the boy here have this bed you're sitting on," her father said.

"What's wrong?" Seara questioned, looking worried.

"He carried you most of the way back home with Bone-Break Fever. A true Nord, I'd say."

Revak lifted the corners of his mouth in a feeble smile, and Seara leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. She moved over and he lay down, handing her satchel to her. Her father went outside to head to the marketplace, and she immediately began to look through the bag, smiling when she found what she wanted.

"You really did that?" she asked.

"I did," he confirmed. "I can feel it, too."

She pulled out the Amulet of Mara he'd given her, and put it around her neck.

"Well then, there's one thing you should know," she said. "I don't want a ceremony. I get nervous when people watch me."

Revak laughed, and it turned into a cough halfway. Seara lay down next to him, propping herself up on her elbow. She used her free hand to run her fingers through his hair a few times, and he started to doze off, feeling like he could sleep for days on end.

"Don't get too close, I don't want you getting this," he told her, half asleep.

She grinned at him, and her eyes sparkled.

"You say that as if you think a little fever is going to keep me from lying next to my husband."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

**A/N: Loving the positive (and thoughtful!) reviews on the last chapter, guys! Constructive criticism is always helpful and welcome, too. This chapter was fun, but difficult—two completely different sides of my characters, and I'm not used to writing anything the least bit sensual. It needs to be there, but I don't want to be over the top. I don't like that. Opinions wanted, this is the first romance story I've ever done. Love you all!**

It took two days before Revak was back to his normal self again. This, of course, seemed like forever to him, simply because he despised being unable to do anything. Seara attempted, several times, to tell him that a person who hadn't taken a Potion of Cure Disease would've been sick for weeks, if they ever recovered at all, but he wasn't having it. As soon as he'd regained enough energy to walk more than a few feet at a time, he insisted that they return to the Breezehome, for no reason other than the fact that he wanted to study her old spell tomes.

"It's something to do," he'd said simply. His voice was still weak and his face still pale; the skin around his eyes was red. He should have been sleeping, but he hated to sleep.

So he spent approximately a day and a half sitting on her bed with his nose in a book, desperately trying every few minutes to make the simple healing spell he knew move from his hand to her body across the room. She sat in a chair near the bedroom door after returning from a morning of cleaning the inn, where Ysolda had gladly welcomed her back. She was working on a decorative woven vase to use as a center piece on her nightstand, and every now and then, she would spout off useful hints about the spell; she was amazed at his patience on the subject, and remembered what he'd told her about gaining a thirst for knowledge after awakening the blood of the dragons inside him. Something told her though, that simply wishing to learn and being bored weren't the only reasons behind his studious behavior. By now he was fully recovered, yet still sitting there.

"Why do you want to learn how to do that so badly?" she asked, concentrating on her unfinished vase. "You're not sick anymore, and you hardly ever travel with anyone."

He didn't respond, so she looked up at him. He was still reading.

"Hey," she prodded. He marked his place with a finger and looked at her.

"_Aam? _Were you talking to me? Sorry." He closed the tome and set it aside, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, closer to her.

"Who else would I have been talking to?" she asked, smiling. "I wanted to know why you're so interested in learning that spell."

"The ability to heal another person is something everyone should know how to do, right?"

"_Nid nok," _Seara reprimanded, smiling and feeling proud at her use of the language. Revak smirked back at her.

"When you do that—that's my favorite thing."

"So teach me some more. You and I both know you're learning that spell because I can do it and you can't. Maybe I want to learn how to talk to you in the language of the _dov._"

"Maybe?"

"I do!"

"_Prem ahrk morah, brit. _That's all it takes. Patience and focus… beautiful."

Seara blushed, surprised that the same reaction to his words still occurred. Even though she felt slightly embarrassed each time her face reddened, she didn't ever want the feeling to go away. His weapons and armor were sitting to the right of the bed, leaned up against the nightstand, and he quickly grabbed them and set them down next to him. Removing the sword from its sheath, he held it up.

"_Zahkrii,_" he said. He motioned to the blade. "_Tuz."_

She could listen to him talk in his accent all day. She would, if he wanted to talk for that long.

"_Fin zahkrii tuz los kinzon," _he placed his index finger on the tip of the blade.

"The sword blade is sharp," Seara repeated. He nodded at her, smiling. "What's the _tuz _made of?" She knew it was made of steel, but was interested in his response.

"_Dwiin,_" he answered. He sheathed the sword and picked up his bow, standing up and positioning himself as if he was actually going to use it. He pulled back and shot a nonexistent arrow, then motioned to himself. "_Ronaan._" He pulled a glass arrow out of the quiver, and held it out to her. She took it, examining it. "_Ronaaz." _

"You're an archer. This is your arrow."

"Right. A little about myself, now… As for my heritage, I'm a _Bron. _I was born in _Keizaal, _a province on the continent of _Taazokaan. Drem yol lok,"_ he said pleasantly, waving at her.

"You're a Nord… born in Skyrim, in Tamriel? Hi!" she chimed back.

"You remembered."

"_Drem yol lok. _That was the first thing you ever said to me. How could I forget?"

He stared at her with an almost shy smile as she sat there, waiting for him to continue.

"Do you have anything else to teach me?"

"Always…" he said quietly, moving closer. "Here's a few more. _Haal,"_ he held up his hand. Wiggling his fingers, he continued with "_sinak."_

"Hand and fingers… What else?" Seara asked softly.

"Touch… _Haalvut." _He got down on both knees in front of her and moved her vase aside, reaching out to touch her Amulet of Mara before slowly moving his hand around to the back of her neck. She shuddered as she leaned toward him, and he let out a small, gentle laugh. "_Motaad,_ shudder."

"I like it when you're feeling better," she told him timidly.

"Me too," he said gently, closing his eyes. She did the same, letting the intoxicating feel of his hands fill her mind. He continued to move them over her, speaking each part as he went. They first moved through her hair ("_om…")_, then caressed her face (_"luft…")_, and finally, he moved his thumbs up to wipe away a few imaginary tears from her eyes. "_Miin," _he finished.

She inhaled slightly in surprise when he kissed her, but melted into it. It was soft and slow. She wanted to tell everyone about it, but at the same time, wished to speak of it to no one. Her heart danced inside her chest, and she couldn't keep her lips from turning upward in a smile against his. He responded with a grin of his own, followed by a small and charming laugh as he deepened the kiss and moved his hands to intertwine his fingers in hers.

"_Daar_... _fen kos mahfaeraak," _he mumbled against her. "This will be forever."

_"Mahfaeraak,_" she repeated. The word was more of a silent movement of her mouth, barely audible, but filled with just as much meaning, if not more. It made sense to her. Forever. Forever, she thought as she put a hand on his chest, was exactly what she wanted.

"Nice!" came a voice from next to them. Seara nearly jumped out of her skin.

"_Til!_" she squealed. "I didn't even hear… What are you _doing_ here!"

"Well, I literally just got here. I originally came over to see if you guys wanted to do something fun, but it looks like you've already got that taken care of."

Revak sniggered, but Seara wasn't amused.

"Stop picking my lock!"

"Sorry. Habit."

The day progressed with Til asking them to join her for another evening at Jorrvaskr. The Companions apparently had regular evenings of drinking and merriment, and when she found out Revak and Seara had plans to be married, she wouldn't take no for an answer. She was slightly upset over the fact that there wouldn't be a ceremony, but used this fact in her favor.

"If I'm not invited to a wedding, the least you can do is drink with me," she'd told them. Revak was up for the idea from the start, tired of sitting around due to being sick. Seara didn't really have an objection to it, but got nervous again about being around so many warriors much more skilled than she was—in every area, drinking included.

Before she knew it, the evening was upon her, and she found herself sitting in the mead hall again, watching the Companions talk and joke with one another, just like a large, loud family. Even the vicious woman, Aela, seemed less cold, but Seara figured she must have already started drinking. She'd never been one to drink more than she had to, let alone get drunk, but it seemed to be something the lot of them did often.

"You know what makes this night even more fun?" Til asked, getting the attention of some of the nearby Companions. "My friends are getting married!"

Seara put her head in her hands, embarrassed. There was the attention, she thought. It was bound to come sooner or later.

"Really?" The man called Torvar questioned, picking up a large jug of mead and setting it on a circular table in the corner. He pulled the table out from the wall a ways, making room for several chairs, downed a separate bottle of mead, and clanked the empty bottle onto the table on its side. "I think this calls for a drinking game." He placed a tankard in the center of the table and filled it with mead from the jug, smiling exuberantly.

"Everything calls for a drinking game in your mind, Torvar," Vilkas said, a lighthearted chuckle in his voice.

"You bet'cha," Torvar responded. "So who's in? I say we play a game of septims. And I assure you, I may already be drunk, but I'll still win."

"I _love _septims!" Til cried, pulling up a chair and banging her fists on the table a few times. "I'm in!"

"You can count us in, too," said Farkas, motioning to his brother. Both of them sat down, and then Revak joined the group, followed by Aela.

"Reminds me of nights in the Stormcloak encampments," Revak reminisced. He turned to Seara. "Are you playing?" She shrugged, unsure whether she should or not.

"Come on," Til begged. "It'll be _fun._ It doesn't matter if you can't drink to save your life."

"What are you trying to say?" Seara feigned a hurt expression. "I can, too! You just don't know it."

"I think you're lying," Torvar pushed.

"Fine," she caved, smirking at all of them and placing a gold coin on the table. She sat down next to Revak, crossing her arms. "But I'm in this to win."

"Brace yourselves," Revak warned sarcastically. "None of us stand a chance anymore. I'll go first. No hesitating." He took the coin Seara had sat down and quickly bounced it off the table and into the tankard, smirking triumphantly as he reached out to spin the empty mead bottle. It stopped pointing toward Aela, who downed the contents of the tankard, removed the gold piece, filled it up again, and immediately shot the coin back toward the center of the table. She missed, and slid the coin to her right, to Vilkas.

A small crowd of other Companions members formed around them as they played, cheering on certain members and jeering at others, all in good fun. Within minutes, Seara had already had two drinks. She was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in her system after just those two, while the others were only getting started. Ten minutes in, the effects were noticeable.

"You can drop out whenever you want," Farkas told her.

"Who said anything about dropping out? I'm no quitter." She shot the septim into the tankard and spun the bottle, giving Revak his fifth drink or so. She couldn't really remember.

The game was moving quickly, and after an hour it was getting harder and harder for anyone to make their shot, so one by one, people began to drop out. Torvar and Til were the last two left, unsurprisingly. Seara had gotten lucky and had much less to drink than the others, but they were handling it quite a bit better than she was; she couldn't stop laughing. As the night wore on, simple things became more amusing. Revak still seemed to at least have his wits about him, even though he wasn't completely sober either.

"I think I like this young and stupid thing," she told him as they sat on the steps leading down to the living quarters.

"Do you now," he said, watching her giggle. She reached out and brushed his arm. She liked the way he talked. She loved the way he looked. "You're pretty good at it."

"You think so?" she asked.

"I'm impressed. You've managed to hold your own."

Laughing some more, she realized she probably sounded obnoxious, but didn't care. She climbed over him and started to kiss him as he leaned back against the stairs, and he didn't do anything to resist her, so she took the initiative to be the one to continue. A few seconds later, Til and Vilkas stumbled past them on their way down the steps, tangled up in each other's embrace as they went.

"Whoops!" Til squeaked, looking down at them. "That's the second time that's happened today! Carry on!" Vilkas pushed through the door and pulled her through, letting it slam behind them.

Seara grabbed Revak's hand and stood up, leading him up the stairs and outside, where they tripped over their own feet and collapsed onto the seat of a picnic table. They continued where they left off, not bothering to move anywhere else until Athis stepped outside and openly teased them. So she grabbed him by the hand again and they ran across town, sticking mainly to the shadows and stopping at random intervals, before reaching the back side of her house. He stood against the wall and she leaned into him, feeling the need to be as close as she possibly could, completely unaware of her more than slightly impaired judgment as she let her hands wander in ways she normally wouldn't have. His face was flushed and his heartbeat was fast, and she decided, on less than a moment's deliberation, that she liked the way she was making him feel.

"So are you gonna come in, or not?" She asked, looking up at him. He stared back at her and she started to kiss him again, but he pulled away. He looked frustrated.

"I would _love_ to," he told her, moving away from the wall and walking toward the door. "More than you know…"

"So do it."

He narrowed his eyes at her in a contemplative way, and hesitated a moment before responding.

"I think it would be best for me to stay at the inn tonight instead." The words were obviously difficult for him to say.

"What? Why?"

He kissed her again and opened the door for her, making sure she walked inside.

"I'll talk to you in the morning," he promised.

Seara stared at the door in disbelief as it closed, feeling unbelievably angry with him. She took her anger upstairs, and fell into bed with it instead.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

**A/N: Another Revak chapter here, guys. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Actually, I started writing the chapter and got two pages in before I scrapped it and started this. Also, I found a 3 ½ hour video on youtube of the entire Skyrim soundtrack. If you're into writing with music, check it out!**

Revak was unable to sleep. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't silence his mind enough to relax. He wasn't drunk enough to pass out. In truth, he wasn't _really_ drunk at all, just slightly buzzed. His mind was there, and it was running. He considered for a brief moment simply going back to Jorrvaskr to drink more, if only to make himself sleep. Deciding he'd rather not take his chances with waking up somewhere across town, he found himself staring at the ceiling in the darkness instead.

The fact that his mind was still functioning normally was what made it run even more. It was a vicious circle of thoughts. Seara hadn't been herself that night. She was completely different and had no idea what she was doing, when in reality, he'd been almost exactly the same as he always was. He knew what he was doing, even though he may have been more laidback about doing so after several drinks, and he was enjoying her company, to say the least. Less than a year ago, he would've taken advantage of her drunken offer without a second thought, and tonight, he'd almost let himself slip again. He was proud of himself for eventually doing the right thing, because he knew that if he would've followed her inside, there was no way he could've stepped away from the temptation he was experiencing. But even after making the choice to leave, here he was, cursing himself for even heading down the path that led him here in the first place.

_You're human_, he reminded himself. _So is she._ _Apologize, and drop it._

He wished it was that easy, but it wasn't. And sleep wasn't an option.

After trying to force himself to sleep for the next several minutes, he gave up and found himself walking up the steps to the Wind district. He had an arrangement with Eorlund, and was considered welcome to use the Skyforge at any time. Now was as good a time as any, he decided. He walked slowly through the cold, his breath becoming visible puffs in the air each time he exhaled. After reaching the legendary forge, he welcomed its radiant heat and spent the next several hours in front of it, concentrating on two tiny objects. He didn't take his mind off the project until he heard a door open from somewhere behind him, and by then, he was done.

Surprisingly, the sky was getting brighter already. He loved the way time passed so quickly while he was training, working, or wandering. It was really the only thing he missed about the dragons… being busy. He stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff the forge sat atop, looking down into the Jorrvaskr courtyard below. The ground was littered with various bottles and an assortment of other miscellaneous things, and Til was pacing back and forth with her hands in her pockets.

_"Mal kendov,"_ he called. She looked up at him and waved halfheartedly before making her way up the steps and sitting down on the edge of the forge, warming herself. He sat down next to her and picked up the two small objects he'd forged, which were now cooled enough to hold. He clenched them in his fist, making sure they didn't get lost.

"You couldn't sleep either, huh?" Til asked, sounding groggy.

"Not a bit, _fahdon._"

"Did you have a rough night after you left, too?"

"You could say that."

Silence followed, and they both stared out over the roof of the mead hall, feigning interest in the birds that had perched there.

"You're not interested in the birds, are you." Revak phrased the question as a flat statement, still not looking away from the crows.

"No."

"Neither am I." He turned to her. "I need you to reassure me that Seara isn't going to hate me for the way I acted last night. I don't usually need reassurance from people, but—"

"She's going to understand. She's not the type of person to place the blame on others. She'll probably blame herself."

"She was mad at me last night. I went home with her, but I left. It wouldn't have been right…"

"No," Til said. "It wouldn't have. At least _you_ have a conscience. I believe I tripped over you on my way downstairs with Vilkas."

Revak didn't say anything, trying not to make her feel guilty.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, looking at him with a tense expression.

"Anything, _mal grohiik."_

"I just… you asked me the other day why I chose to join the Circle." She pushed her short blonde hair away from her eyes, using her fingers to make it stand to the side like it usually did. It didn't stay that way for long though, because as she continued, she grabbed at it repeatedly in a nervous gesture. "I didn't want to talk about it right then because of my transformation, but also because I've never told anyone. Even the other Circle members think the story is different than it actually is, but I know they're starting to suspect something unusual. I need to get it off my chest."

"I have no problem with you telling me, but why haven't you told Seara?"

"She wouldn't understand like you would. She's never been in any sort of relationship before the one with you, and she doesn't like it when I lie… You told me you know about becoming something unwillingly, and that's what makes us the same."

"I do know about that. My life changed within a few minutes."

"As did mine."

"I'd like to hear it."

As the sun came up, they sat and she talked while he listened. Eorlund wouldn't be there to work the forge for another two hours at least, and the rest of the Companions were still asleep, having partied too hard the night before. They would be alone for a while, and Til was just getting started.

"When I first heard about the Companions, I was so little. I really don't even remember the literal _first _time I heard the tales. But I do remember being in awe. My father and mother were both in the Imperial Army. I grew up with the upbringing of an Imperial, even though I'm a Nord. But back then, the Empire was something to be respected. I was proud of my family. They told me about the warriors known as the Companions, and I was taken by the stories. When I was ten, both of my parents were killed. They were transporting paperwork, and some nearby bandits thought they might have some nice loot… so they killed them." Her eyes started to swim, but her expression was angry. Revak placed his free hand on top of hers, knowing exactly how she felt, and she continued.

"I waited. For so long, I had an arrangement with Hulda—she ran the Bannered Mare before Ysolda did— to stay at the inn so I wouldn't be sent to Honorhall. I spent my days with Seara, but I wouldn't let her family take me in because they felt sorry for me… I stole the food I needed, and pretty soon, my feet were so light, I couldn't be heard until I whispered in your ear. No… I wanted my own family. A real, gods-honest family. And when I got strong enough, that's when the Companions accepted me. I was twenty, but I finally had my family. I've always been small. I would've fit in better with the Thieves Guild, I was told. But I didn't give up. And when they took me, I never looked back. It took some warming up, but I got to know everyone, and Farkas and Vilkas were my closest friends. Farkas was always like a brother to me. Vilkas… not so much."

"He taught me so many things I didn't know," she said. "He was smart, strong, and witty. The very first time I saw him, he amazed me. He and his brother were in training then. Nowhere near the level of expertise they have now. And it was sort of by accident that I met them. I got wrapped up in helping someone I'd found in the wilderness one day… a boy, maybe a bit older than me, who'd been hurt by some bandits near their camp."

Revak's eyes widened as he looked away from her. He hadn't told her…

"I couldn't leave him there to die, especially when that was exactly what had happened to my parents. I got the attention of the Companion on duty at the watchtower over there, and they sent Farkas and Vilkas. I dragged Seara into the whole ordeal, too. But it was that day that I walked into Jorrvaskr and, for the first time, begged to be let in. All the other times, I'd merely asked… I tested my strength against Vilkas, and I didn't stand a chance. Two years later, I was back. I did a number of odd jobs when I joined. I can't tell you how excited I was to take on my first real contract."

"By then, I'd already established a friendship with the twins. We trained together, ate together, and so on. When Kodlak set me up with Farkas to clear out a nearby burial tomb, I was ready. But before I left, Vilkas asked Farkas to switch jobs with him. He wanted to go with me so that he could be the one to testify of my strength and courage upon return. Farkas agreed, not really catching onto the whole thing, I suppose."

"Vilkas and I made a great team. I loved having him as my shield-brother. I knew he was always close behind, and it helped that I was already quite taken with him. At this point, I was still completely unaware of the Companions' secret. We entered the very center of the crypt, and there were draugr… everywhere. The coffins lined the walls in this place, and I swear, there wasn't a single one who didn't come back to life at the scent of us. They were teaming up on us, and there were too many of them. I was panicking, but I stood back with my bow, trying to take them out one by one from afar. When there was finally only one left, its attention was on Vilkas. He was out of breath; he could barely move from the exertion against all the others. So I steadied my hand and shot the thing myself. When it fell over, I ran to Vilkas to make sure everything was alright… we returned to business and made our way out of the crypt before any more draugr could catch us off guard, and as soon as we were outside again, he kissed me."

"I was a bit confused, I'll admit it. But I didn't have any objections. It was quick. Just like nothing. It was there, and then it was gone." Til narrowed her eyes, glaring off up at the sky. "The one thing that stayed forever was that little bit of blood on the corner of his mouth."

Revak nodded seriously, piecing the parts together. There were only two ways to contract lycanthropy— either to be attacked by a werewolf in its beast form or to drink the blood of another with the disease, whether human or beast. Til hadn't been exaggerating when she said she didn't do it willingly.

"I got sick," she started again. "That very same night. A much milder version of what you saw on the road. But it progressed. Since the amount of blood was so small, it took a long time to spread through my system. And that bastard hid it from me. Everything. I had no idea what was going on. And when the others started to notice, _that_ was when he decided to tell me. And he lied. To_ all_ of them. He told them we'd encountered one within the crypts, a feral captured by the Silver Hand, and it got me. He made me feel helpless and… daft. My first transformation was horrible and abnormally slow, but he stayed with me. It was the least he could do. Then, I come to find out that a werewolf shares a connection with the one who changed them. It can be emotional; physical… it can be anything. Revak… I'm cursed with it."

"How do you feel about it now?" Revak asked, feeling sorry for her. He was in awe of the similarities between their lives.

"I hate him," Til said, her voice shaking with rage. "I can't stand him. But at the same time, I can't let it go. It's impossible. I try to stay away from him most of the time, but when we drink, the two of us always end up together. It's a known fact. I think he enjoys it, being the one I go to. I would be tempted to say that he takes advantage of it. But it isn't his fault. This whole thing was an accident, and now… this is just the way it is."

"Isn't there anything you can do?"

"My best bet would be to leave Whiterun. But the Companions are my family. I can't imagine starting over anywhere else." She shook her head. "I'm really sorry for putting all that on you. But I feel a bit better about it."

"That was the goal, wasn't it?" Revak smiled at her and then stretched out his legs and crossed his arms, getting comfortable. "Let me tell _you_ a few things."

"You don't have to," Til told him. "I know you don't like to share personal information."

"Not with just anybody. But you're not just anybody, _grohiik kiir._ My parents were killed the same way yours were. I was much younger, and I also had someone take me in for a while. Then, after awakening the soul and blood of the dragons within me, I can honestly say I understand not being able to control how you feel about someone. I, unlike you, felt that way about every woman I encountered, not just one. It took me a year to control that. Last night, I worried I was slipping back into old habits again. Worries, fears, hatred… they're always there. But one day, you'll be passionate enough about something to override them. You're a _kendov,_ a warrior. That will always be with you, no matter where you are. Before I came here, I was a General in the Stormcloak army. You have what it takes, _mal kendov._"

"Over the years," Til responded. "I've become faithful to the fight for the Nords. I wish things were the same as they used to be, and I could join the Imperial Army in my parents' footsteps and still feel proud. I just can't bring myself to do it anymore. Now, I would be honored to fight for the Stormcloaks. But that's where we differ. You're… well, you. You're the Dragonborn! You're bigger than I am, stronger… you mean something. I could never honor them the way you can."

Revak shook his head, disappointed at her answer.

"That isn't the same Til who worked for years to prove her worth to the Companions. Do you know who I was when I joined the army? Not the Dragonborn, that's for sure. I was a scrawny lad who had nowhere else to go, and was in need of a family. Who does that sound like?"

Til was quiet, looking down at her hands.

"When I gave you those arrows, what did I say to you?"

"Not to forget my worth," she replied.

"You've forgotten. Maybe it would help you to know that without you, there would be no Dragonborn."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled at her, shrugging.

"Skinny boy, arrows in his side," he said, pointing to himself. She gawked at him.

"No way."

"Here I am."

"You… I mean, I guess I can see it, but… you've grown up so much since then, I can't even imagine you as the same person." She was beaming. "I can't believe… you wrote that letter Seara obsessed over for years? Does she know?"

"Of course she knows," said Revak. "I promised I would come back, and I did. I couldn't have even made the promise if you weren't there that day. Remember your worth."

"I will," she whispered.

He held out his hand, showing her the two rings he held in his palm. One of them was plain, and the other, he'd forged with a small diamond on the top.

"Do they look okay, or am I still drunk?"

"They're beautiful," Til replied truthfully.

He closed his fist around them again and used his other hand to ruffle her hair up before standing.

"When you see Seara," he told her, "tell her to wander. She'll find me."

He ran down the steps and toward the city gates, leaving behind a very new, very happy close friend.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

**A/N: It is currently 3 in the morning. I poured my heart into this chapter. I hope it shows. That is all.**

Seara awoke feeling extremely disoriented and confused. Her blanket was wrapped around her leaving the rest of the bed uncovered, a sign that she'd tossed and turned the previous night. Her head was pounding, and the room felt much too bright. For a moment, she wondered where Revak was, and then as she sat up, the memories came flooding back to her.

_Oh_, she thought.

She must have made a total fool out of herself, acting the way she did. This was why she never drank socially. She attempted to run her fingers through her hair the way she normally did when she woke up, and realized she'd braided it at some point. Braiding her hair was an instant response to anger, though she wasn't sure why. It may have had something to do with the fact that when her mother used to do her hair, it was calming. She would never cut it, aside from the occasional trimming off the ends to keep it healthy and at a reasonable length. To her, her hair was like the favorite blanket of a child. It was comforting—her go-to thing. She had definitely been angry the previous night, and she guessed she probably braided it to calm herself down without realizing it as she sat in bed, fuming. It certainly wasn't the best looking braid she'd ever seen. Not in the mood to mess around with it, she left it the way it was and walked downstairs to eat a small piece of bread, hoping to calm her stomach and rid herself of the terrible headache that was plaguing her.

Honestly, she didn't know what to think about her misadventures the night before. She supposed she had fun while everything was going on, but was it really worth the embarrassment she was feeling now? Foggy memories flashed through her mind of the way she'd acted toward Revak, and she started to feel terrible. It wasn't something she would have normally done, and she was thankful he knew her well enough to figure that out on his own. She'd been told countless times over the years that the way a person acted when they were drunk was really just an extension of the sober thoughts they didn't have the courage to act on. As much as she wanted to deny it, in her case, there was more than slight truth to the statement.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence she started to feel slightly better, but her head was still heavy. A rap on the door woke her up even more, and she stood up to answer it as quickly as she could, expecting to see Revak on the other side. When she came face-to-face with Til, she was somewhat disappointed.

"Don't look so happy to see me," Til said, smiling. It was too early for smiles. "I just came to tell you that Revak wants to see you."

"Why didn't he come and tell me himself?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask him when you see him?"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

Seara stared at her, pursing her lips.

"He said to tell you to wander, and you'd find him that way," Til finished.

"But… I don't feel like wandering. Isn't he tired?"

"I don't think he slept, so yes, probably."

Seara grudgingly walked back upstairs to change out the dress she'd fallen asleep in. It was sitting crooked on her body and hanging much more loosely than normal, having stretched out. Just changing into something different helped improve her mood and make her feel better. The clean dress was a dark blue, with half sleeves and a bit of white lace she'd sewn around the top. She loved the dress as it was when her father had given to her for her most recent birthday, and the lace was little more than a personal touch. He told her it reminded him of her sea eyes. She looked at herself in the mirror, wishing she appeared less tired, and wondered what she was going to do with her hair. She reached up and slowly started to unbraid the terrible mess, and was slightly shocked, but pleased, when it fell over her shoulders in thick, soft waves; it was usually terribly flat. It made her whole appearance look incredibly natural. Her eyes, she decided, weren't the only thing that looked like the sea today. She put on a smile that erased the tired look in her eyes, grabbed her satchel, and walked back downstairs.

"Since when does your hair do _that?_" Til asked with wide eyes.

"Since I fell asleep with it braided, I suppose," Seara answered, shrugging.

Feeling confident, she held out both of her hands and sent a swirl of golden healing magic around her body, letting the warmth fill her. It not only took care of her headache, but left her skin glowing with radiant health, and in a sudden transformation, she felt ready to take on the day. She left the house at the same time Til did, after making her promise she wouldn't pick the lock while she was gone _or _when she got home, and was on her way out of the city.

The townspeople caught her eye as she passed, and she held her head up high. They may have been looking at her, or she may have imagined it, but either way, she felt fine. Self-assurance had never been a common thing for her, and she was overflowing with it. It was pleasant, and she felt like nothing could bring her down. The last time she remembered feeling the way she did was before the war had reached Whiterun, before her mother had passed, and back when the only relationships in her life were the ones with her family and Til. Nothing had bothered her then. Even after the previous night and the embarrassment she'd felt, nothing was bothering her now, either. It was bliss.

She pushed open the city gate and began to do as Til told her. She wandered. Knowing Revak, he wouldn't have traveled too far outside of the gates if he was hoping she would find him. He knew her, and she wasn't going to venture any further than she had to by herself. She stuck as close to the walls as possible while still following the path, and eventually found him sitting atop a large rock alongside the creek they'd been to once before. It was where he'd told her about himself, where she'd healed the helpless bear, and where he'd very first tried to kiss her. He was staring down at his hands when she found him, deep in thought. He looked up as she came closer and smiled at her, appearing somewhat spellbound by the sight of her. He hopped down from his perch on the rock, setting his sword and bow in the grass next to him, and held his hand out to her. She took it, and he pulled her closer, giving her a kiss.

"You look incredible," he told her. "How'd you manage that after last night?"

"Like this," she responded, placing her hands on his chest and letting the same healing spell swirl around him.

"What an idea," he said, looking more awake. "Speaking of last night, I apologize for the way I acted."

"_You _apologize?" Seara actually laughed at the comment. "I should be the one apologizing. I… don't normally drink like that, if you couldn't tell."

"No, I could tell. Which is why I should have watched out for you instead of going along with it. I just… feel kind of guilty, you could say."

"You don't need to feel guilty. You did what was right, and I couldn't thank you enough for being as respectful toward me as you were."

"You were mad at me," he told her.

"I know." Seara went red in the face. "I think drunken me was angry you didn't take my offer."

"I think so too. But I also think that with you, the offer would mean infinitely more when you're sober. That was nothing,_ okaaz miin. _I would rather you show me that level of trust when it's truly there."

It was there, she thought. He'd been earning it with his honesty to her every time they were together. The things he'd told her about himself, his past, and his most secretive thoughts. He was open with her, because he wanted nothing to hide. He was tired of being anonymous; the Dragonborn, the man who'd appeared to solve all of Skyrim's problems, was tired. He _wanted_ to share his name, _wanted_ to share his past, and _needed_ to prove to another human being that he was something other than a hero of legend. He'd nudged her gently, coaxing her to let down her walls at her own pace, and for that, she trusted him. Unable to find the words to say so, she simply nodded, wishing he could read her mind.

"I've never been a man of perfect timing," he began, shifting nervously. "But this morning, after I had a conversation with Til, I asked Mara to grant me her favor. For me… I don't know. I'm not sure. At one point, I'd steered away from any relation to the Divines at all. They meant nothing to me, and it showed. But the longer I live, the more I feel their pull in my life. Whether Mara is the one who gave you to me or not, I'm not sure. But I do know this… I'm extremely undeserving."

"No, you—" Seara tried to interrupt, but he stopped her.

"Let me finish first. You don't want a wedding ceremony. Some people would argue that not having any kind of ceremony means not being married. I would say different. I don't know Mara as well as I should, but do know that she's the Goddess of Love, not the goddess of ceremonies. I don't think she would need to have witnesses present, or papers signed… I think all she wants is love spread in her name."

Seara watched him speak, in awe of him. He couldn't have been more right, and she felt exceptionally proud. Here he was again, telling her things he wouldn't share elsewhere, and she felt like she had nothing to offer him in return. All she had to give him was the love she felt, the floating feelings that she'd finally stopped suppressing, and even though it was a never-ending amount, it still didn't feel like enough.

"So," he said, "Come here."

She moved a little closer to him, feeling her hair ruffle in the breeze. He smiled as he watched her, and she could see the heart in his expression. It was the same way she'd looked when she first released all of her positive emotions toward him— an air of having realized how lucky he was, mixed with nerves and a dash of anxiety, but a willingness to continue on. Taking hold of her left hand, he looked into her eyes as he produced a small golden band with a diamond on top, simple but stunning, and she stared down at it.

"In Mara's name, I want to be the one to take your hand."

She looked back up at him, doe-eyed and speechless. It was happening, right now, that very moment. So quickly… but she wanted nothing more. As he continued, she couldn't keep her heart from fluttering.

"I don't want to go anywhere unless I know you'll be there for me when I get back. I want to be the one who protects you, the one who serves you, guides you, and cares for you… _Mahfaeraak. _Will you let me do that?"

"I will," Seara promised, feeling dizzy as she watched him slide the band onto her left ring finger. She beamed at him, and he turned her hand palm up, placing his plain ring inside it, indicating he wanted her to take her turn. She thought for a second about what she might say, but when she glanced back up at him, he was looking away. "Are you alright?"

His attention had diverted to the mountains in the distance, and he stood still as a statue. His eyes were narrowed, and he reminded her of a wolf that sensed its prey, lying in wait. The only part of him that moved was his pupils as he scanned the mountainous terrain beyond the city. His hands remained at his sides, but were poised ready to lash out on a moment's notice. Everything about him looked wild, from his dark red mane of hair to the expression in his usually gentle green eyes, as if something within him had been woken up. Compared to what she was seeing now, Seara thought the Revak she was used to being around could have been half-asleep. The only thing missing from his warrior's stance was the paint he'd been wearing when they'd met. The corner of his mouth twitched and his head made a slight jerking movement to the left. Just when she was about to ask him again of he was okay, a terrible sound erupted from over the rocky cliffs It was a sound she hadn't heard a while, just enough time to make her forget. It struck fear in her heart, and turned the blood in her veins to ice. The horrible, screeching roar of a dragon.

Immediately following, she heard cries from the city. It was too close. The closest a dragon had ever been to Whiterun was years ago at the West Tower; this one was much, much closer. A wing appeared out of the clouds and disappeared, then, following another menacing roar, the beast swooped down, spitting a red-hot burst of fire onto the land near the White River, uncomfortably close to her father's farm. Revak moved in a flash for his bow and sword, sheathing the blade and holding the bow down at his side, knees bent and ready to draw it up at any given moment.

"Go," he commanded in a low voice, not taking his eyes off the dragon. "Get somewhere safe, and I'll find you."

"Are you going to be okay?" She asked, sounding frantic. He set his jaw and rolled his shoulders to loosen up before smirking triumphantly.

"I was _born_ to do this."

The dragon flew in an unpredictable path. It was almost as if it was toying with the citizens below, enjoying the fear they felt, even feeding on it. A few of the guards shot arrows at it from their posts, but the effect was minimal. It taunted them, circling above the city, never landing.

"Seara, go. _Go."_

She did as he said, putting on his wedding band and clutching her hand in a fist so it wouldn't fall off. She started toward the city walls and away from the dragon, but still with no intention of leaving Revak behind.

"_Dovah!"_ He bellowed. The dragon followed his voice and began to swiftly fly toward where he stood upon catching sight of him; he pounded a fist into his chest over his Amulet of Talos, yelling again. "_Dovah!"_

He stood ready, switching back and forth between which leg he was putting his weight on, swaying and waiting to figure out which way to run. The way he moved as he glared up at the creature and the way it circled above him in return was played out like some sort of ancient and legendary dance. It was beautiful and terrifying— all at once. His mind was reeling and there was obvious adrenaline rushing through his system as he readied his bow and drew an arrow, steadying his hand.

He took the first shot, lodging his arrow into the massive green dragon's underbelly. It shrieked a deafening sound and exhaled a steady stream of fire his way, and within a split second, Revak shifted his weight again was nowhere to be seen.

"_Wuld!" _His voice echoed off the city walls and the mountains, and Seara scanned the grounds looking for him. He was approximately twenty feet away from where he was before, and she hadn't seen him move at all. He shot another two arrows at the beast, which was also taken by surprise, and the dance continued. In an attempt to protect itself, the dragon flew higher, up into the clouds and out of sight. Revak shook his head, putting his bow away and drawing his sword.

"Oh no you don't…" he mouthed.

A sword? Seara started to worry. What good was a sword against a dragon, especially one so high in the clouds? It could reappear anywhere at any given moment, and he would have no protection. Even still, he looked ready, as if he'd been itching for this moment to arrive. When he opened his mouth again, his growled words sent shivers down her spine.

"_Joor… zah frul!" _

The rumble his voice caused was followed by a deafening silence. Seara watched him with bated breath; it was the first time she'd heard him use a shout that had resulted in nothing. But he was still watching, waiting, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. There was a feeling of dread in the air, and everything had gone still, when out of nowhere, the dragon fell through the clouds. It was falling, not flying, with no control over its movements. Revak's very voice itself had produced unseen chains, dragging the fiend to its demise. It slammed into the ground with a force that made the land shake, knocking Seara off her feet and sending her to the grass. She extended her arms to catch herself, and the plain, loose wedding band slipped off her finger.

She never saw where it landed, and began to feel through the grass in a frenzied way, desperate to find it. Every few seconds she would look up to make sure she was still safe before looking down and searching again. The screeches and roars coming from just a few hundred feet away petrified her. When her hand wandered over something hard and cold amongst the weeds and flowers, she picked it up, confirmed her find, and began to crawl toward the gates. The ground was still trembling with the heavy footsteps of the dragon as it snapped at the man she loved, making a last ditch attempt at its life. As its energy waned, it became sloppy in its endeavors, and tried one last time to clutch him in its powerful jaws. He darted out of its reach, seizing his opportunity to slay the monster while its neck was fully extended.

He grabbed one of its horns and swung himself up onto the back of its scaly neck, steadying himself as the dragon thrashed about, rearing to throw him off. Raising his sword, he positioned it vertically against the brute's skull, driving it through the bone. The dragon collapsed and he jumped down onto solid ground again, leaving his sword where it was and stumbling backwards. He regained his footing as Seara bolted toward him and collided with his body, melting into his chest and then taking his face in her hands. She grabbed at his hair and kissed him, still incredibly shaken. _All still there_, she thought.

His face was covered in what looked like dirt, sweat and soot, and his shoulders were tense as though he was still on alert. As the final bits of flesh burned off the dragon's bones, an ancient magic rushed toward him, and he took hold of Seara's hand. She looked up at him to find his eyes closed peacefully; he slowed his breathing and let his body relax as the soul of the dragon bound itself with his own. When the rushing torrent of magic stopped, he opened his eyes.

Placing a foot on the skull before them, he grabbed the hilt of his sword and coaxed it out of the bone. He knelt down to wipe the blade off on the grass and stood back up, sheathing it. He stared intently at the colossal skeletal corpse, placing his right fist over his heart and lowering it again; a Nordic salute.

"Why?" Seara asked, unable to find words for her whole question.

"_Rok los aan zeymah,"_ he answered solemnly. "He is a brother."

Revak's relaxation from the effects of absorbing the soul was short-lived. Guards, farmers and other citizens we running to the site of the finished battle, chattering with each other in disbelief. Soon they were swarming him, wanting to know how he did it, if he was alright, and if the dragon was dead for good. The questions kept coming. Even the Jarl had sent word that he wished to speak with him, and although Seara wanted nothing more than to be with him alone, she understood. He looked at her questioningly, willing to walk away, but she shook her head.

"Talk with them," she said. "They look up to you."

She squeezed his hand and dropped it, pushing through the crowd of people and walking the opposite direction as everyone else, back home. In one hand, she grasped his wedding band as tightly as she could, desperate not to lose it again. When she reached the house, Til was already waiting outside, looking worried.

"I can't believe I didn't get to see it! I heard the dragon and wanted to be out there to help, but Farkas made me stay inside. When will Revak be back? Is he alright?"

"He's fine," Seara told her. "He'll be back after he talks to everyone and finishes business with the Jarl, probably sometime later tonight. But please… Just for this evening, let me be with him without a visitor."

Til nodded, disappointed but understanding, and headed back across town. After a few moments of hesitation, Seara made her way to the inn. She informed Ysolda that Revak was busy, just as she'd told Til, and that she was wondering if she could clear out his room for him. Ysolda agreed, but only because she was familiar enough with Seara to know she wouldn't lie—at least not well—and gave her the key to his room. She quietly headed upstairs and gathered the few things he'd left there, including another shirt that smelled like him. She carried the things back outside and down the road to Breezehome, all the while feeling bemused by the morning's events. The afternoon was upon her, and as she crossed over the threshold and pulled the door shut behind her, she already felt exhausted. What did he feel like, she wondered?

Putting everything of his away where she thought it would belong in her home, she held on tight to the shirt and wedding band. When everything was cleaned and straightened, she trudged up the stairs and changed out of the dress she loved so much and into the shirt she loved even more, curling up on her bed and twirling the oversized ring around on her finger. Her own ring fit just right, but there was something magical about having _his_ on her hand. Like he was there with her, she could smell him, feel him, and even hear him in her thoughts. With his faux-presence to comfort her, she eased into a light sleep.

The sun was setting when she heard the door open, and she sat up. She smiled at the sound of his footsteps while she waited for him, and when he peeked around the doorway her grin got even wider.

"I brought your things over from the inn," she told him, motioning for him to sit down next to her. He did, and put an arm around her waist as she continued. "I'm wearing some of it, though."

"I don't mind," he said. At some point he'd cleaned the dirt off of himself, but he still smelled smoky from the dragon's fire. He paused, looking at her in a stressed sort of way and taking off his weapons to set them aside, followed by pieces of his armor. "You know what this means, don't you? They're back. Alduin's strength has been restored, and they know. They're confident again, and it's time for me to take my next step."

"So the dragons are back," Seara stated. "That doesn't mean a thing to me right now. I saw what you can do out there… I know what you're capable of. You don't have to go anywhere right this moment, so you can sit right there and listen to me tell you that I love you with all my heart, that I want to see you off when you leave and be here when you return, that I want to serve you as equally as you serve me, and that I want to follow your lead wherever it takes me... _mahfaeraak. _Will you let me do those things?"

"I will," he promised.

"Good," Seara said, removing his ring from her finger and taking his hand, ready to put the band where it belonged. After doing so, she gently touched the side of his face, and the shirt she was wearing slid off her shoulder, exposing her skin. He leaned over and kissed it, then her neck, and moved up to her lips. The sun had set, and its last rays were fading; the amount of light filtering into the house was small, and as it got darker, she found herself lying down and pulling her husband with her. He took off his shirt and amulet and she placed her hands over his scars, remembering. Such a small chance had led them to this day that she knew it couldn't have been a coincidence. She silently thanked Mara for her blessing as his body pressed up against hers from above, his breath on her collarbones, the scruff on his jaw tickling her and sending shivers down her arms. Minutes that felt like hours passed as he tangled his fingers up in her wavy hair and continued to kiss her, making her feel an amplified version of every positive emotion she'd ever felt toward him. She was breathless, and her heart was full. When he pulled away, the last bit of sunlight revealed the same questioning look in his eyes she'd dreamed about while in Riften.

"Yes," she breathed into his ear. "I trust you."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews on chapter 20! It seems like my hard work paid off. A few things I wanted to address… the questions I receive the most from readers are the following: How much longer do I plan on making the story, and what is the proper way to pronounce Revak? The last one made me laugh, because I never knew how many people weren't sure how. It's pronounced reh-vok, with the emphasis on the vok. And as far as Dragonsong goes, I'm only about halfway done! Really, even that is subject to change (it may be longer). Stick with me; I love you all!**

Birds chirped the next morning as Seara slowly woke up. They sang what sounded like the same song that was in her heart, and she kept her eyes closed as she listened to their different melodies. When she took a deep breath and brought her left hand out from under the fur blanket, she silently prayed that the evening hadn't been a dream. The diamond on her finger sparkled back at her, and she smiled. Feeling her stir, Revak pulled her close and squeezed her tighter, and she had no objections.

"Morning," he mumbled against the space between her shoulder blades. She shivered and rolled over to face him, pulling the blanket up over most of her face and peeking at him with a gleam in her eyes.

"Hi," she said sweetly.

Neither of them said anything else right away. No words were needed; they were both comfortable and content, the blanket was warm, and for a minute, just a minute, all the worries were gone. Under the blanket, he grabbed her hand and their fingers intertwined. He rolled onto his back and smiled up at the ceiling with his eyes shut.

"I've fulfilled my New Life vow," he told her.

"I thought you didn't have one?" Seara propped herself up on her elbow, looking at him curiously. He laughed lightheartedly, thinking for a moment.

"I told you my vow was to make a vow. I made my vow yesterday afternoon."

A vow.

He'd been speaking of literal wedding vows.

She was speechless. Revak never ceased to surprise her, and she was looking forward to many more years of being surprised. Pleasantly, of course. She leaned over to kiss him, and he grabbed her and pinned her down. She squealed as he started to tickle her, and before she knew it, she was laughing so hard her stomach hurt. He was laughing at her laugh, and then she was laughing at his, and soon enough they were both lying there laughing until they were unsure of what was even funny anymore. Just as her giggles began to die out, a loud pounding on the door from downstairs startled her, making her jump.

"It's probably just Til," she said, slightly irritated. She loved her best friend, but she could be persistent. "She wanted to talk to you last night… but I asked her to leave us alone."

Revak snickered, sitting up and looking at her.

"Did you really?"

"You know she would've been here if I hadn't."

He twirled the ring on her finger as he held her hand, and she kissed him again, moving to get up and answer the door.

"You don't _have _to answer it," he stated, not letting go of her hand and pulling her back toward him. "You could ignore it, and we could just stay here until I have to leave…"

There was an ache in his voice as he trailed off that made her heart skip a beat. She made a contemplative face. It would've been wonderful to just pretend morning never came, and that there were more hours in a day. Ignoring the world. She knew it was something he wouldn't be able to do for long, and genuinely considered his offer.

There was another knock on the door, louder this time, and Seara reluctantly got out of bed. She brushed her hair out of her face, as it was looking particularly unruly, and pulled it back. She huffed and went downstairs, smoothing down Revak's shirt. She only opened the door enough to see who it was, and as if she'd never learned manners, Til pushed it open the rest of the way and slammed it shut behind her, leaning against it. She eyed the oversized shirt and her gaze shifted to the ring on Seara's finger, where it lingered.

"Did I interrupt something?"

Seara stared at her, feeling slightly intruded upon.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" she questioned slowly, ignoring Til's inquiry.

"I just have a strange feeling," her friend responded, her blue eyes becoming serious. "Something isn't right, today. I think someone is following me."

"That's ridiculous," Seara started. From the top of the stairs, Revak seemed to disagree.

"What do you have to go off, _mal grohiik?_" He'd already put on his armor, and was tightening and fastening the straps on his bracers as he descended the stairs, giving her a hard sort of look. "Gut feelings aren't something you should push aside. Especially yours. You aren't completely human anymore. You're _aan grohiik. _A wolf has heightened senses and can tell danger is coming before it's visible. With the blood of a dragon, I'm the same way." He raised his eyebrows at her inquisitively as he sat down on the bottom step and started to tap his black boots on the wood floor. He was growing edgy and restless, knowing the danger of all he needed to do was approaching quickly. "If you say something is wrong, something is wrong."

"I've been all around town this morning. I needed to go to the Drunken Huntsman for arrows, up to the Skyforge to have Eorlund help me improve my armor, and I stopped by Arcadia's to pick up some potions. Everywhere I went, I caught glimpses of the same person. At first, I felt alright about him. Like he wasn't so different from me. He's got on some simple armor, not much more than what the Battle-Born sons parade around in. But after I started seeing him everywhere… I got uneasy. I never really got a good look at him though, because every time I see him out of the corner of my eye, he's gone when I double-take." Til looked rather shaken as she recounted her morning. "I know if I were to face him in battle I could take him. I would be faster—he's really large. But if he really is giving me a bad feeling for a reason, I can't do anything if I don't _see _him."

Revak thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on his knees. Seara had never seen him so jittery.

"So go somewhere with us this morning," he finally said. "That way there'll be three of us. If someone is following you, one of us will be bound to see him, and we can confront him."

Seara wasn't about to confront anybody. Confrontation couldn't have been farther from her nature.

"I need to leave at some point today, though." He folded his hands and stared at them. "If I don't, I won't be able to sleep tonight. I won't be able to sleep either way, but if that's the case, I might as well be protecting the citizens of Skyrim, right?" It was like he was talking simply to avoid silence. "I need to eat something."

So instead of eating something in the house, Seara changed into something decent, a plain, off-white dress, and they left for the Bannered Mare. She understood why Til was so bothered, even if nothing was really wrong. The fog that hung in the air that morning was thick, and it would have been enough to make anyone feel like danger was looming around the corner. There was hardly anyone on the streets, and even the guards provided little comfort; they were practically invisible until you were right in front of them. The day felt foreboding and sinister, but the birds were still chirping. Now that she was outside, their song sounded more haunting than happy. She was glad when they entered the inn, finally feeling at ease within a room that contained other people.

"You're here early," Ysolda said, wiping off the bar. She took a quick glance at Til and Revak.

"Oh, I'll be back later," Seara promised, not exactly wanting to be back later. "We just came to get something to eat this morning."

"You walked through all that fog for the food we serve here? I know we're a popular place, but when you've got a cozy home of your own, I'm not sure I could imagine why you'd choose to eat at a traveler's stop."

"Well, when you don't feel like cooking, you don't feel like cooking. Right?"

Ysolda laughed at Seara's feeble attempt to make up an excuse, agreeing with her. In all actuality, Seara would've given anything to stay in the house without visitors. Revak would be leaving in a few hours depending, and it made her heart ache. The thought of him going to Sovngarde was enough to make her grab onto him and never let go. How did one do such a thing? Would he have to die? Not even he knew. Nothing was clear, and she pushed the thoughts away as they sat down at a small table and Ysolda brought them each the meal they'd ordered. She didn't have much of an appetite, and settled for picking at her early morning bowl of fruit instead of really eating it.

"I don't see him anywhere," Til whispered, glancing around suspiciously. "I could swear I felt him everywhere before…"

They sat and talked for a few more minutes, Til asking Revak all sorts of questions about his fight with the dragon, waiting on the off chance the suspicious man might show up. He never did. As soon as Til began to relax, they left. Seara dreaded Revak's words, but knew they were coming.

"I picked up what I needed last night," he mentioned. "I left it all at Dragonsreach to make for an easier trip."

Of course he had.

"The traps are set, and the guards are standing by. Everyone is ready for this…" he got quiet. "Except me."

"Didn't you just say you were ready?" Til asked.

"Physically, I'm ready. If I have to be." He looked off in the direction of Dragonsreach, staring at the towering building with a brave look in his eyes. "I don't want to leave. I'm ready for this whole ordeal to be over and done with, but that doesn't stop me from being terrified."

Til looked over at him in wonder, seemingly amazed that he would admit such a thing.

"You can do this," she said.

"And if I fail?"

"Don't talk like that." Seara felt her heart sink.

"It's a fact of life, Sea," Til told her. "Warriors live, and warriors die. But they all fight courageously. If you die, Revak… you die with honor."

He nodded at her solemnly, seeming to draw strength from her words. They stopped when they were standing outside the house again, and she turned to Til.

"Just for a minute or two, can I ask you to wait here?"

"Sure thing," Til replied.

Seara took Revak by the hand and they went inside, where she shut the door and walked over to the table in her small sitting area. She opened it, removed the worn letter she'd kept for so long, and extended it to its author.

"Take it," she said. He carefully did as she told him, opening it and examining the words he'd written. "In that letter, you promised you would come back for me. I want you to promise again."

He shook his head without looking at her.

"I can't."

"It's a promise I'll forgive you for breaking." She used a finger to turn his head toward her. "But I need you to have that letter, because I need you to remember what you once promised me. You have to do everything in your power to make it back here."

"I promise I'll do everything I can. But if everything still isn't enough, and I can't make it home, I need you to promise me something as well."

"Anything," Seara told him.

"I want you to remember how much you mean to me, and know that you can mean that much to others, too." He folded the letter back up and tucked it away in one of his pockets as he continued. "Your life is a beautiful thing. I can see it, Til can see it, your father… but can you? Promise me you'll search yourself. Your power in Restoration magic is something I'll never be able to match. Use it. Show people, and touch their lives. Make people know who you are. Stop being quiet because you're afraid to speak up."

Seara nodded in a small way, feeling touched by what he'd said.

"You believe there are too many risks outside the city walls to leave," Revak continued. "It's true, there are risks. But there's also a whole world. See it. It's beautiful, and it deserves to see you as much as you deserve to see it. Think—how many risks are you taking by staying here?"

"None," she answered.

"And that's where you're wrong. You're risking your life in a way you couldn't imagine. By staying here and here only, you don't even have one. Think of your day to day life, and tell me you're happy with it."

"I have been happy," she argued.

"Since when? Because since I returned, you've been outside. You've wandered, you've been to Riften and back… you've seen things, experienced things… before then, tell me you were happy."

"As I got older… no. I suppose I wasn't."

"That's my point. Seara… I want to take you places you've never been. But you have to promise me that you'll do it yourself if I'm not around to help you."

"I promise," she said. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, feeling her throat tighten, warning her that tears were coming. "Give me one moment alone, and I'll be ready to see you off."

As soon as he walked back outside, she started up the stairs and into the small room at the top. It was supposed to be used as a spare bedroom, but since she never had guests besides Til, it was nearly empty save for a few chests she used for storage. She turned immediately to her right and stared down at a plain wooden chest, taking a deep breath as she knelt down to open it. Inside, a poorly crafted piece of chest armor and six ebony arrows sat lying on the floor, untouched by anything else. She didn't bother picking the items up, but rather looked down at them, letting her tears flow freely. She brought a shaking hand up to her eyes, wiping them, and thought about everything Revak had just said. It was true; until she'd begun to experience the world firsthand, she hadn't been truly happy since she was young.

A small noise came from behind her, like a boot scuffing on the wooden floorboards. Startled, she turned around as quickly as she could, and a forceful hand clamped itself over her mouth as she drew breath to scream. She hadn't even noticed the hulking, white-haired man who'd hidden himself in the very room she'd walked straight into. She started to scramble away from his hand and toward the door, but he grabbed onto her long brown hair with a fist and wrapped it around his wrist a few times. Her eyes shut at the pain of having all her hair pulled so violently, and with it firmly in his grasp, she had no way to escape.

"Go ahead and scream for your _'husband_,' meat," he taunted. "I was looking for him anyway." He smelled like dirt and wet dog.

A Dark Brotherhood assassin, dressed in disguise. After losing three members of their family, it looked like they may have been smart enough to take a more discreet approach. He drew a dagger and held it front of her face.

"I'll take my time carving you up. A beautiful meal should be prepared carefully. Your friend, that idiotic other-dog who led me right to your house, should know what I mean. If there was room in this terrible place, I'd be getting rid of you my own way."

He wouldn't be able to hold her hair and have a hand over her mouth and still stop her from reaching for something to help, so she started to feel around. There wasn't anything in reach. She struggled against his grasp and kicked him square in the chest, causing him to loosen his grip for a split second. She utilized the tiny window of opportunity to struggle as quickly as she could to her feet, and just as she was about to run out the door and down the stairs, he yanked on her hair again. He forced the dagger at her, but missed as she struggled.

"Revak!" she screamed as loud as she could. She grabbed hold of the man's wrist, pushing it away as hard as she could, but he was stronger than her and all she could do was delay him slightly. Overpowered by him, he threw her down to the floor again. She heard the door open from downstairs and Revak's footsteps rushed toward the scene, and she blindly grabbed for one of the ebony arrows in the chest next to her, picking it up and sending it straight through the flesh just below the assassin's left shoulder. He screamed in pain, and as he was about to plunge the dagger into her stomach, everything virtually stopped.

"_Tiid klo ul!"_

Revak was in the room, standing behind the man with his sword drawn. The scene was moving so slowly, Seara thought, and hoped, she might be dreaming. He stuck the blade into the assassin's lower back, sending it out through his stomach. He grabbed his neck and pushed him out the door, where he stumbled and fell down the stairs, landing face-up on the floor in front of Til, still alive. The scene began to regain its normal speed, and Seara crawled to the edge of the steps, watching in horror as Revak stood over the man and stomped as hard as he could on his chest, breaking several of his ribs.

"_Krii lun aus,"_ he growled. The remaining color drained from the man's face at Revak's words while he laid there; all the life was being slowly leeched from his body. "I hope it's slow. _Agonizing._ I hope you're suffering."

He knelt down and leaned forward, applying pressure with his hand to crush the man's windpipe, stopping his ability to breathe and watching his health drain. He whispered, his voice forced and shaking with rage. "And I hope you're pleased with the last thing you see. Bastard."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Til's eyes were wide with fear as she stared down at the body before her. The man was lying in his own blood, lifeless, as it spread out on the floor around him. Seara was trembling at the top of the stairs on her hands and knees, unable to stand. She kept inadvertently replaying the feeling of the arrow going deep into the flesh beneath his shoulder. What a terrible thing, to stab someone. To see the blood flow out of the wound she made, and then the fatal one Revak caused… she now understood what it felt like to attack someone with the intention of killing them. To do it for a living—for fun—she couldn't, wouldn't, ever understand. Nor did she wish to try.

"Gods forgive me," Til pleaded, holding a hand over her mouth. "This was my fault. I led him straight here. I gave you away."

Revak said nothing. He was on his knees holding his hands out, fixated on the crimson that covered them. His face was expressionless as the man's own blood dripped from his fingers and landed back on the wound it was spilled from.

"What happened here?" asked a strong male voice. A guard pushed his way past Til, examining the scene and jumping to an immediate conclusion. He took Revak by the arm, forcefully bringing him to his feet, and held both his hands behind his back.

"No!" Til called out. "It wasn't his fault, this man is an assassin! He was hidden in the house and attacked Seara—the Dragonborn brought him down defensively."

"Are you okay?" Revak called up the stairs. It was obvious by the look on his face that he wanted to be next to Seara, making sure she wasn't hurt, but he couldn't move.

Finally regaining her voice, she spoke up.

"Yes. I'm fine," she said, still shaking. Looking over at the guard restraining him, she attempted to calm her trembling body. "Search him. See if there's a note."

The guard, not willing to completely trust any of them in regards to the scene before him, whistled for one of his partners. Another guard, this one also male, worked his way inside and walked to the body, bending over and searching for anything suspicious. He pulled a piece of parchment out of the assassin's armor; it was wrinkled and stained with blood.

"Looks like he wasn't after just one person either," the second guard told the first. "He was after three. By the looks of it… these three right here."

Til looked up at Seara, then over at Revak, who was still being restrained. Not only was the Brotherhood after him, it had spread to hunting Seara and Til as well, simply for being involved. None of them were safe anymore. Seara glanced one more time at the body on her floor before closing her eyes and looking away. This wasn't her home anymore. Home was supposed to be safe, a sanctuary. Instead, it was terrifying. Being kidnapped on her leisurely walk to the farm had been bad enough. Her house had been the place she'd taken cover that day, so scared… now, the assassins had found it, too. Her last bit of comfort had been seized, and the man who'd sworn to protect her was leaving.

"I have business to attend to," Revak stated casually, a small amount of contempt in his voice. The guard released him hastily, taking a step back.

"My apologies, Dragonborn. We'll take care of this," he vowed. "Step outside, all three of you."

Revak stepped forward to help Seara down the stairs, and then held her tight for a few seconds; his hands were still covered in blood, but at that moment, she didn't care. They all went outside as they were told and walked side by side down the main road, drawing the looks of many and ignoring them all. Upon reaching Jorrvaskr, Til made sure she was the first person to step inside.

"Everyone here is used to seeing each other return from missions covered in blood. You won't get the looks you get everywhere else," she explained.

They walked through the entrance and received nothing but a few minor glances. Til led them to a small room in the living quarters where there were buckets of water and rags they could use to clean up. Having avoided most of the confrontation, she was unharmed and as clean as she normally was, except for the blood on the tips of her boots. Taking a rag, she cleaned it off.

Seara watched Revak's hands as he rinsed them. That night, they'd been so gentle… she'd woken up with them holding her. Now, the water he was washing them in was turning red and he had to take off his wedding ring to clean the blood off of it and out from under it. The same hands that so often ran through her hair had just run a sword through a man's stomach and then choked him to death. He had barely spoken since the incident, and Seara knew he was as upset as she was. Drying off his hands, he turned to her.

"I'm sorry you had to see me that way," he said. He shook his head. "Both of you. I don't like having to kill other men and women, but it usually has to be done. It's always bothered me that most of them still have families and loved ones… I've told you this. But him… I killed him with a hunger in my heart. I wanted to watch him die. I enjoyed it."

"It was only because he hurt Sea," Til reassured. "Like I said before, it was done defensively."

"You saved my life," Seara added.

"It doesn't matter," Revak said flatly. "I killed that man and got pleasure out of it. That frightens me. I can tell it scares you too. What separates me from the Brotherhood? They kill other people for sport. They joke and laugh about it because they like it—"

"No," Seara cut him off. "You're nothing like them. You were angry. You didn't want him to touch me."

"You're right, I didn't. But the feeling I had is still there. I want… I want to kill all of them. _Every single one_." He paused. "You're not safe here any longer. Not now that they know which house you live in. There's a difference between taking risks and being idiotic. You can't stay here safely until the Brotherhood runs out of assassins… and that isn't something immediately possible."

"Do you have suggestions?" Seara asked. "Because I have nowhere else to go."

"I have one," Revak said, looking serious. "But it's not going to be easy, and it's going to require major effort on your part. Follow me."

Seara and Till hurriedly followed him back upstairs and out the doors into the courtyard. The training sessions were done for the day, and the Companions were all inside resting their sore muscles and eating meals; it made for the ideal place to mention things in secret. They stood against the stone wall, as far away from the doors and windows as they could get, and Revak continued in a low voice.

"When I left the army, I had a high ranking position and an adequate amount of respect from the Jarl. There's a house in Windhelm, Hjerim. Because of that position and respect, it belongs to me. I was born in the city and I wanted, one day, to return to it. It's been unoccupied since I purchased it a few years ago; I never even got the chance to furnish it. I didn't have the gold. You would be starting from scratch, but it's the best option." He didn't like what he was saying, and sighed in a worried sort of way.

"Somehow, someone from the Brotherhood knows where you live. I think it's unlikely that someone here in the city is involved with them. They could have members that are anything from couriers intercepting letters to men who guide carriages—anyone who could travel easily without suspicion, and keep their eyes open. This is why you can't trust anyone. If you're going to do this, Seara… if you're going to make your way to Windhelm, you can only tell two people. Your father, and whoever is chosen to guide you. It can't be me… and you can't tell them why you're going."

Seara stood still, her mind reeling. Just a day ago, everything was fine. Within a single morning, her life had been turned on its head. No matter how much she agreed that she couldn't stay in Whiterun—she didn't even _want _to stay—Windhelm wouldn't have been her first choice city. The center of the Civil War in Skyrim. These days, a war was never quite guaranteed "over." The White-Gold Concordat had been signed to end a war, and all it did was start a new one.

"I'll go," she said. Her stomach filled itself with nerves as she thought about the journey that would inevitably follow her decision. Was this what Revak felt like, thinking about Sovngarde? No one should have to approach Sovngarde in a fearful way. It was meant to be beautiful, a final resting place, and a sign that the struggles one faced in life were finally over. For him, it was the opposite.

"Alright. Take only the things you need most, and only as much as you can carry comfortably while still being able to move quickly. Don't borrow a horse; you'll be spotted easily in the snow from afar, and don't take a carriage. No one can know where or why you're going."

"Except my father and my guide."

"Right," he nodded. "We'll both leave tonight, unless you need to wait longer."

She shook her head, not feeling comfortable with waiting any longer.

"Before either of us leaves, though," he started, "we need to decide on a guide. A shield-sibling, if you will."

"I'll do it."

Seara and Revak both turned to look at Til, so small, who'd just agreed to take Seara's life into her hands across the plains and through the mountains of Skyrim. There was a fire in her eyes.

"If anyone goes with Seara on this journey, it'll be me. Who else can she trust? I can fight, will fight, for _her. _Last night, the Circle went hunting. I'm refreshed, good for another few weeks at least. I'll get her to Windhelm. I'll stay with her until you return. I'll make a new life there if I have to."

"_Mal kendov…"_

"I want to. Seara has been my friend since we were _so_ young… Whiterun without her isn't home."

"Til," Seara said, feeling her eyes start to burn with tears. She held them back. "The Companions… they need you. They're your family."

"They'll get along fine without me." Til looked up at her with a small smile. "You were here before they were. You're my sister. Not by blood, but just as strong… and I will protect you with my life."

Everyone was silent, all thinking about different things. Revak cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. He grabbed the the sword sheathed at his left hip, and narrowed his eyes at Til.

"Fight me," he said, his voice strong.

"I'm sorry, what?" Til asked, tilting her head in disbelief.

"You heard me. I'm challenging you. Right here, right now." He drew his sword, extending his right arm completely so the tip of the blade was just an inch away from her nose; she stared down its length and into his defiant stare. "I won't trust just any _kendov_ to fight for my wife. _Keizaal los tahrodiis._ Can you do it? Show me." He lowered the sword, pointing it at her heart. Til used a hand on the broad side of the blade, pushing it away from her and reaching down to unsheathe her own dagger. Sharp enough to cut through a piece of parchment like butter and delicately designed around the base, it was undoubtedly Skyforge Steel. She proceeded to toss it into the air and catch it by the hilt, smiling confidently at him.

"Rules?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't die," he replied. "Then what use are you?"

Til darted forward, swiping at him with the dagger. Revak took a quick step to the side, dodging her attempt in one fluid motion. He began to take backward steps while he eyed her, smirking and holding his arms out as if to say he was ready for her.

"You'll have to do better than that," he called out tauntingly.

Til's face reddened; she hated being taunted. Gritting her teeth and setting her jaw, she charged forward again. As she raised her arm to put the dagger through his shoulder, he grabbed her wrist and pushed her back, dropping her to the ground. She winced upon contact with the hard stone, having landed like she was sitting. She'd dropped her dagger, and was holding her left wrist. He stared down at her, spinning his sword, waiting for more.

"Get up," he commanded fiercely.

"Revak…" Seara started softly, worried about her friend.

"She can take it." He watched Til with a ruthless look in his eyes. "If she can't, someone better will come along. Get up!"

"I can…" she said softly.

"_Show me!" _Revak roared. Everything else was disturbingly silent, and his voice echoed off the surrounding walls. The hostile look in his eyes was frightening. To be pitted against this man in battle, Seara thought, would not have been pleasant.

Til picked up the dagger and forced herself to stand, glaring at him. She deftly pivoted around him, but he was still expecting it and elbowed her hard in the ribs before turning around and grabbing her by the front of her armor, throwing her to the ground again. She landed on her back this time, and tears filled her eyes at the pain.

"Are we playing? Or are you going to put up a fight?" Revak pointed his sword down at her again. "Up!"

She started to get up, and he used his foot to kick her in the stomach and knock her flat again.

"Stop it," she growled.

She attempted again to get to her feet, but he just put his boot into her ribcage a second time. When she finally managed to stand up, she punched him square in the jaw with her left fist, looking livid. Her right fist, which clenched the dagger, smashed into the left side of his chest, right over his heart. Seara gasped, but quickly realized she'd turned her hand at the last minute so the blade was pointing toward her; all that made contact with his chest was the hilt.

"I said, _stop it."_

The Companions had gathered outside when they'd gotten word of the fight, and they were all watching in complete silence, not sure who to root for.

"Much better, _mal kendov."_ Revak smirked at her, and then proceeded to throw her down again. "Pay attention!"

He drew a dagger of his own that Seara had never seen before; a beautifully crafted ebony blade with light swirl markings down the top and hilt. It was crafted in a wavy sort of way, and just like the tips of the arrows made from the same material, it was made to be deadly. As he stood over her, he held the sword and the dagger simultaneously, ready to fight with both. Til jumped up and raced over to her friends, speaking to no one in particular. She was sweating enough that her hair was getting wet, but Revak stood unfazed.

"Give me a war-axe," she panted. Farkas was the first one to move, and he found an axe on the nearest picnic table and handed it to her. She charged back into their makeshift arena, bending her knees and leaning slightly forward, ready to face Revak again.

"Dual-wielder, huh?" she asked, huffing slightly.

"I can be what I wish." He stepped forward with his sword arm raised and his dagger arm lowered, swinging them both diagonally, one up and one down. Til blocked his dagger with her own, forcing his arm down. Her axe hooked onto his sword, and in one deft movement, she used the leverage to pull it out of his hand and sent it clattering to the ground several feet away.

"I could do this all day, _Dovahkiin._"

She walked forward, forcing him back, and swinging both weapons as he managed to block them with one. The courtyard was filled with the sounds of weapons crashing together, and sparks flew when the steel weapons collided. They continued until his back was against the cliff wall, the Skyforge directly above him.

"_Fus,_" he said with a commanding shout, avoiding the use of the other two words so he didn't seriously injure the tiny woman in front of him. She nearly lost her balance as she staggered away from the wall, surprised at the amount of force behind his voice. Several of the Companions started to mutter amongst themselves.

"That's cheating!" she snapped.

"Real battles aren't fair," Revak retorted, "they're about killing your opponent before he kills you. I could've run you through six times by now in just that pause alone."

Til ignored him and leapt forward, first faking to his right, and then running around his left side. She kicked the back of his leg, making his knees buckle, and pushed him forward. His sword fell out of his hand as he landed face-down, his cheek pressing into the cold stone. She kneeled over him and held him down with a hand tight around his neck and her dagger to his back.

"Now who's running who through?" she snarled.

Revak exhaled angrily through his nose a few times as he lay there, glaring at the feet of the Companions under the awning and trying to calm himself.

"Okay," he said through clenched teeth, giving in.

Til released him and he stood, dusting off his front. He sheathed his weapons and she did the same; there was a tense moment of silence between the two of them before he raised his fist and put it over his heart, and she returned the gesture, out of breath.

"Go," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. "When you and Seara finish preparing for your trip, I want you to meet me at Dragonsreach."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

**A/N: Different approach on this one, guys. I hope it's likeable! Thanks again for all your reviews and support. I'm very appreciative! Also, sorry for the length. It's a bit long, but it wouldn't have been right to split it up.**

"Father?"

Seara poked her head inside the farmhouse door, looking around. She found him sitting at the kitchen table, sorting through some of the crops he'd recently harvested and inspecting each one.

"I got some good ones this season," he told her without looking up. "It's been abnormally cold, too. Some real hard work went into these."

"They look wonderful," Seara said, not knowing how to begin.

"I'm glad you're here. I was going to see if you'd be interested in having dinner here this evening. Maybe we could talk. Just like we used to. You have this new look about you, now that you've married. Just like your mother."

Up until now, Seara thought the amount of time she spent with her father was plenty. In reality, it wasn't anywhere near enough. All of a sudden, she felt like she didn't know him at all, and she wanted to.

"I can't," she started, her voice small. "Not tonight."

"That's fine. Maybe sometime soon."

She was silent. He stared at her, wondering what was wrong, and with small steps, she made her way to the table and sat down next to him. Looking at him, memories flooded her mind.

She remembered being small, running through the house dressed in bare feet and smiles. Her laughter was filling the rooms as she went to and from each one, trying to find a place to hide where her father wouldn't find her. She knew she was the best at hide-and-seek. It always took him _ages _to figure out where she was. Sometimes, he would be right in front of her and still not see her, and she would stifle her giggles for as long as she could. She always had to jump out and give herself away, and he would tell her just how great she was at hiding. He never would have found her. As she got older, she started to realize he was just messing with her, and he knew where she was all along. Suddenly it wasn't as fun anymore; but now, at twenty-four years old, she longed for that same childhood innocence. If she could spend the next few hours playing hide-and-seek with her father… she would.

"I came to tell you that I'm leaving Whiterun."

"Again? Where to this time?"

"No. Not on a trip. I'm leaving for good. I… I'm starting the next stage of my life in Windhelm."

"Gods…" said her father, after a long pause. "He's taking you from me. I always knew it was coming. Every child moves away at some point or another; your mother moved away from home when we met… and now he's taking you from me."

Seara felt her heart break at his words. For a moment, she remembered strolling through the marketplace on his shoulders, squinting in the sun and feeling like she could see the world. There was a point when she'd sworn she would never let go of her hug around his neck.

"Where is he?" he asked. "I would like to speak with him."

"He's at Dragonsreach," Seara answered truthfully. She couldn't bring herself to lie. "The time has come for him to take his stand against the evil that plagues our land. It's a difficult time, to be sure. But I won't be alone as I travel. Til is going with me."

"For a man to leave his wife to fend for herself isn't something I admire."

"Please, Da. The circumstances are infinitely different. I understand them, and that should be enough. I'll be safe. I swear it."

"I have no doubt about it. My little girl has a fight in her yet. But if you don't mind, I'd like to accompany you to see him off."

* * *

><p>As she hastily stuffed a satchel full of only necessities, Til felt her heart pounding. Her short blonde hair was falling into her eyes, no longer styled, but messy and sweaty from her fight with Revak. Her muscles ached, and her stomach hurt at the thought that she would soon be taking her best friend's life into her hands. She was determined to teach her a few things as well, knowing that no one should ever be as unprepared as Seara was. Til had been to Windhelm before to speak with a contact, and the road, though beautiful, wasn't exactly a safe one.<p>

Her hands fumbled over daggers and potions, and just as she thought she was done, her eyes fell on the remaining glass arrows Revak had gifted her. The tips were loosely wrapped in a cloth, and they sat on her bookshelf out of sight. She grabbed them without hesitation and stored them away in her quiver, silently hoping she wouldn't need something so deadly. They were the kind of things used to bring down dragons, not wolves. She silently prayed that wolves would be their only enemy.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight and closed her eyes. Her friends had never seen her fret about a mission, and she'd be damned if they saw it today. She adjusted the straps on her leather armor and put on her bracers, ready to travel and determined to make the trip a successful one at any cost. She gave her room one last look, feeling sad about leaving it but knowing it was for the best. An image flashed in her mind of receiving the room for the first time. Farkas sat at her desk, and Ria was flopped over on her bed, and all three of them were laughing. They were the only two who'd been friendly straight away. She would miss everyone in one way or another, but Farkas, Ria, and Kodlak were the ones her heart found hardest to leave. She started toward the door, glancing at her desk to make sure she hadn't missed anything, and collided with a body nearly twice her size.

"Going somewhere?"

She closed her eyes against Vilkas' thick accent, but he put his hands on her shoulders and she missed the feel of his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him, not knowing what exactly to say. As she felt his body against her arms, she began to wonder what she was doing. She didn't love this man… so why was she acting like it?

"I just have a contract to complete," she lied. "I'll be back in a few days."

"You look nervous for such a simple undertaking."

"I…"

"You can't lie to me," he told her. "I hand out contracts. I know who gets what."

Til opened her mouth to speak again, but he gave her a look that made her stop.

"Don't leave, Til."

There they were again. Her conflicting emotions fought a war inside her chest. Vilkas… She was angry at him. All the time… yet, something about him made her feel better, safer, and loved. She knew it wasn't true. They had a connection, and it was not one she wanted. He bent down to kiss her, and she hesitated before pushing on his chest and turning away.

"I _am_ leaving, Vilkas. No one knows why, and no one will ever know why. Not even I truly know why. But what I do know, is this… it's about damn time."

He gaped at her, and she continued, poking a finger at his chest.

"I am sick and tired of being your puppet. You left me with a fate I didn't want, nor deserve, and you didn't even _tell _me. You let me suffer until everyone else started to figure it out, because you were afraid of your image among your peers. You couldn't care less about me. I was your hunt. You got me. Are you happy? And now that we have a past, a history I can't erase, you continue to use it to your advantage. Today, I'm feeling strong enough to leave it behind. Don't you dare follow me, Vilkas, or I will kill you. I mean it."

She pushed her way past him and walked down the hall, shoulders back and head held high.

* * *

><p>Walking toward Dragonsreach, Revak removed the Amulet of Talos from around his neck. He stopped and knelt before the statue of the man whose blessing he carried, looking up into the stone face of the warrior with the legacy he could only hope to one day live up to. He reached out and put a hand on the shrine, silently asking for courage, and clutched the amulet so hard he thought it might break. He slipped it back around his neck and stood up.<p>

"You have come," said an eager voice from behind him. A priest in orange and yellow was watching him carefully, obviously wishing to say more.

"Heimskr," Revak acknowledged him and gave a forced sort of smile, beginning to turn away.

"What brings a man like yourself before the feet of mighty Talos today?"

"A pending journey," said Revak curtly. He continued somewhat sarcastically. "And yourself?"

"Why, I'm always at the feet of Talos! A day during which I can speak of his glory freely is a fine day indeed."

"Give it a rest, Heimskr," a woman sighed as she walked by.

"A true follower of Talos _never_ rests," exclaimed Heimskr. "That is exactly the problem the Empire had!"

"You know," Revak started, putting a hand on the priest's shoulder. "Everyone stands for something."

He walked away, leaving the man behind and listening to his voice grow fainter as he tried to tell others what he stood for. Heimskr was obviously inspired, and as Revak ascended the steep steps to Dragonsreach, he remembered Marna. Marna was the kind woman who'd taken him in when he was orphaned. Kind as she was, she didn't hesitate to work him half to death. As a young boy, chopping wood was the most tedious and difficult work one could receive. He figured he had enough skill with a woodcutter's axe to take Alduin down in under a minute. Today, he realized, if he could trade in his present duties for providing Marna with firewood, he would gladly do so.

To make it easier," she'd told him, "think about something that inspires you. Chopping the wood will make you good and strong. What do you need to be strong for?"

"Adventures," he'd replied simply. "One day, I'll see all of Tamriel."

"I don't doubt it for a minute," Marna said. "I'll tell you one thing though, and you won't understand it just yet, but some day you will. This labor might be good for you, but nothing will make you stronger or inspire you more than having a family of your own to come home to."

She was right.

He pushed open one of the high and wide doors to the palace, striding across the floor and up yet another set of steps with as much strength and confidence as he could muster. He met Jarl Vignar's eye, and there was a knowing look exchanged between the two of them.

"Is it time?" The old man asked.

"You know what to do," Revak answered.

Right before his eyes, the massive room leapt to life. Guards and soldiers went this way and that, each one performing his own small task to set the stage for the capture of a dragon. Revak made his way through the building, finally exiting onto a large, mostly covered balcony. Men were pulling chains and levers as they walked from point to point, making sure all was secure. When the sound of clanking chains and pounding metal ceased, silence fell heavily on his ears.

"The men are ready," Jarl Vignar told him while they crossed the floor and stopped at the railing, overlooking the plains and off into the distant mountains. The clouds were breaking, allowing for a clearer view of the sky. "Call this dragon of yours."

Revak looked up at the snow-capped mountains, digging deep within himself for the will to leave. Just that morning he'd woken up next to the woman he loved. He already wanted to be back, and he hadn't even left. Leaving her in Whiterun would've been hard enough, but he was leaving as she was preparing to travel halfway across the province. The sooner he left, the sooner he would return. He shut his eyes, letting a single name build within him. Odahviing.

The feeling was like no other. He could hear the word within himself and feel it pounding with the beat of his heart, begging for an escape. The soul of a dragon stirred with him, and his mind was clear. Upon opening his eyes, his vision was clearer as well; he could even breathe easier. But the soul brought with it a much deeper longing than to just speak; he wanted, needed, to fight. Heart pounding in his chest, he released the name that was demanding to be spoken.

"_Odahviing!"_

His voice was followed by silence, as everyone waited with baited breath. It wasn't just a word or a name. It was a challenge, a taunt, and a summoning. After a minute of waiting, as if to prove a challenge wouldn't be denied, a low roar sounded in the distance and the dragon soared into view. He swooped down toward the balcony, picked up a guard in his unforgiving claws and flew off with the man, dropping him out over the fields as a warning, almost to ask, "are you sure you want to continue?" Revak answered his unspoken question.

"_Meyz, dovah! Meyz, Odahviing!"_

He stood firm as Odahviing approached, waiting for his turn to strike. He was filled with a hunger to test his worth, but knew he had to be cunning. The men surrounding him had their bows and swords drawn, trying their hardest to remain as brave as they had to, but he could see the fear in their eyes. Odahviing was close enough now that the gusts from his wings were threatening to blow everyone over; Revak felt his hair whipping around his face. He glared into the face of the beast suspended in front of him, and there was a moment of silence between the two while each one sized up the other. It was his turn.

A smirk formed on his lips just before he shouted. His words lashed out at the creature before him, ensnaring it and pulling it downward into a deafening crash. No longer able to fly, Odahviing let out a rage-filled roar and began to plow toward him on the cold, stone balcony. The building shook beneath his steps, and he knocked out several guards with a swish of his tail.

"Stand down!" Revak yelled. His voice was commanding and forceful, a tone he'd learned to use to its fullest while he was an Officer in the army. The men responded immediately, taking their positions on the balcony's second floor and watching him intently. He held up both of his hands, his palms filling with fire, and the dragon's attention was focused on him only. With his eyes locked on the flames Revak was holding threateningly, Odahviing blundered straight into the middle of the room, finding himself caught in a massive trap made for a beast just his size.

"_Dovahkiin,"_ he growled. He sounded betrayed. "_Daar los munax."_

The snap at his morality unfazed him. He had a job to do, and he would do what it took to get it done, cruel or not. Before he spoke, he shook both of his hands at his sides, extinguishing the flames they held.

"_Pruzah, Odahviing. Prem. Zu lost aan loan."_ Revak met the dragon on its level, and there were several whispers around the room wondering what they were saying.

"_Aam?"_ It turned its head to the side in a curious way, narrowing its eyes. Its hulking red body and sharp spines were menacing; he was obviously of higher status than most dragons. "You may have been gifted with the language of the _dov,_ but you are certainly still a mortal man. No _dovah _would lure his brother into a trap with word of a challenge. But _aam,_ a question, you say? If I answer, you will release me?"

Revak thought his words through carefully as he bargained with the behemoth towering over him. He paced the floor as he spoke, remembering to keep respectful eye contact. The last thing he needed was to be thought weak or untrustworthy—the trap was enough to hurt his image in the eyes of the _dovah _before him. If Odahviing wanted, he could have easily roasted Revak alive where he stood, but he hadn't. There was something different about him. He wished to be free from Alduin's rule, whether he'd spoken of it outright or not.

"Free me, _Dovahkiin, _and I will fly you to Skuldafn. Come back to me when you have considered my offer."

The weight on Revak's shoulders was overwhelming. He was unsure if he wanted to risk letting a dragon carry him through the clouds for miles, but he had no other viable options. As he thought, his eyes fell on Seara, her father, and Til in the doorway. He began to walk over and meet them, but Seara was already on her way. Her eyes weren't on him, however; they were fixed on Odahviing. She stopped at the side of his head, reaching out and gingerly placing a hand on his jagged scales. Revak watched her closely, surprised at her sudden bravery.

"To be trapped and alive must be awful… Will he understand me?" she questioned.

"Of course I understand you."

Seara was startled at the loudness and power behind the dragon's voice, and took a step back.

"I'm in awe of you," she admitted breathlessly.

"As you should be, _joor. _But you are afraid. I assure you that I am here against my will, but also to be of use to your _Dovahkiin. _He is yours, _aam_? The connection between you is strong."

"We are one," Seara explained, "but I do not own him, and neither does he own me."

"The union of mortals is a strange thing," said Odahviing. "It is weak and fragile. I cannot understand."

"It is anything but," countered Revak. "Because you can't understand our ways doesn't mean they're much different. I would be willing to lay down my life for her, but you wouldn't know of such things. There is no reason to protect a life that can't naturally end."

"You speak true words, _Dovahkiin. _But to keep her safe, as well as the rest of _Keizaal, _you must leave. Tell me, _dovahkriid, _have you made your decision?"

"I have. I'll accept your offer, if you'll allow me a few more moments with those who mean the most to me."

"Proceed, _Dovahkiin."_

Wanting to save his words with Seara for last, he grabbed her hand and gently squeezed it before letting go, silently telling her he would be back. She nodded at him, smiling sadly, and he walked away in the direction of her father. His dark brown hair was streaked with silver, and he looked tired and stressed.

"If I wasn't supposed to be here, I apologize," he started. He took a few steps to the side, out of earshot from everyone else. "But there were a few things I wanted to talk to you about."

"Anything," Revak said.

Seara's father held eye contact, his face slightly intimidating. Revak could honestly say he hadn't ever felt so small.

"There was a time when I was your age. Young, in the best shape of my life, and ready to take on whatever the world threw at me." The man shook his head. "Now I own a farm and I'm getting old. You're half my age and have had more experiences than I have. But there's one I have you beat on. I've raised a family. I've had a wife, and I have a daughter. With _my_ daughter, you're starting down that same path. I want to trust that you know what you're doing, but you know nothing."

Revak listened patiently, wondering if he was about to be yelled at.

"Where is your father, lad?"

"I was young when he passed," Revak told him.

"You're still young," Seara's father said sharply. "I don't care how much you think you know. You need a father to raise a family. And with your father gone… I want you to let me take his place."

Revak stood still, replaying the words over a few times in his head. A father. _Aan bormah. _By law, they were already related. But this man wasn't talking about that. He wanted the real father-son relationship, to be the mentor Revak never had. He nodded, unable to find any words whatsoever.

"Secondly." There was a weighty pause before he went on. "Don't break her. Please, don't break my Seara's heart. She may not have the physical strength, but her heart is the strongest I've ever known. She waited for you for six whole years, and she would have waited longer, I'm sure of it. If you manage to break her, she won't be fixed. Do you understand me? Come home."

"I will, Da. I promise." He put a fist over his heart, and his father did the same. "My name is Revak, if you wish to send a prayer my way."

"There will be many. Talos guide you."

There were now a total of eight people he'd revealed his name to, but he didn't regret any of them. He gave his new father one last goodbye before heading over to Til, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tight enough to lift her feet off the floor.

"Watch it," she said when he set her down. "People might start thinking you're nothing to fear." She playfully punched him in the shoulder, and he grinned at her.

"Maybe I'm not. Listen, _mal grohiik. _I'm sorry I tested you so hard."

"Don't apologize." Til looked up at him with a smile in her eyes. "Sometimes, I forget that I still have a long way to go. You helped me to remember, and you showed me that I'm stronger than I think. I needed it."

"You can certainly hold your own," Revak told her. "It was because you refused to give up. That or I wouldn't let you. When you're on the road… don't give up. Stay safe. We'll meet up in Windhelm, _mal kendov. _I know we will."

Til hugged him a second time, and he was grateful for her friendship. Adventuring was often a lonely business, and to have found a true friend in the midst of it all was something he considered a bit of a blessing. He ruffled up her hair before he turned away, finally heading over to Seara, who had been waiting patiently for him against the wall. She respectfully didn't bother to ask what he'd talked to her father about, and he appreciated it. They stood in front of each other for a few seconds, not needing to say anything. She grabbed his hand, weaving her fingers through his, and used the other to gently caress the side of his face. She smiled as she looked at him, and he smiled back through his nerves.

One single smile brought all of her beauty to life. He had always seen her as beautiful, but there was something about that moment that allowed him to see it more than he ever had before. Maybe it was because he was leaving and carrying with him a greater chance of not returning, but her eyes shone brighter, and her slightly lopsided and sheepish grin made him realize, within a second's time, that the woman before him truly loved him for all he was.

"Seara…"

She pressed her body against his, taking her hand from his face and resting it on his chest as he held her waist. She looked up at him and touched the bridge of her nose to his jaw. They stayed that way for a short while, and he loved the way it felt to hold her close.

"Arise, sacred warrior," she said softly. He felt her clutch the front of his armor tighter. "Conquer and live."

Revak closed his eyes as she spoke, feeling a slight chill run through his body. She remembered.

"_Alok, revak kendov, kron ahrk lahney," _he repeated. She pulled away from him slightly, pulling a small and slim container out of her satchel. He recognized it—it contained the mixture he used for his war paint. She held it out with both hands as she spoke.

"May I be the one to send you into battle?"

He nodded, and she dipped the tips of her index and middle fingers into the paint and lifted them to his face. She gently placed them just above his right eyebrow, and dragged them downward until the paint ran out just above his jaw line, leaving behind two vertical crimson lines, one a bit longer than the other. She took a step back to examine him, and he held out his hand for the paint.

"I'm not the only one with a journey today," he said, applying the paint to her face the same way she'd done his. He closed the container and handed it back as he kissed her, running a hand through her hair._ "Lost mulaag, okaaz miin. _Have strength,"he told her as he pulled away. "I love you more than anything."

"I love you too… more than anything." She waited a second before continuing, twisting the ring on his left hand. "Now— go take down a dragon."

He flashed his teeth at her, feeling invigorated and ready to take on his task.

"Release him," he called out to the guards.

"What?" Someone chimed back.

"You heard the man," commanded the Jarl. "Release the dragon."

A few muttered worries could be heard around the room before the clanking of the traps being opened drowned them out. Odahviing shook his head, regaining his dignity after being held in his captured pose, and proceeded to stomp away toward the balcony. Revak followed him, Seara and Til close behind.

"You use the _Dovahlovaas _to gather your strength, as do I. Maybe we are not so different after all. Tell me, _Dovahkiin;_ are you ready to see the lands of _Keizaal _as only a _dovah _can?" The dragon asked, his voice deep and proud.

"I am," Revak said strongly.

"He's flying _that?" _Til yelled. "He gets to do all the best things!"

Revak climbed up onto Odahviing's back, using a few of his spines as a foothold, and saluted them as he held on with one hand. It was a strange feeling, but it got his adrenaline rushing and he felt wild.

"I'll have to find a way to let those children from the New Life Festival know I've figured out how to fly," he called down to them. Seara smiled, laughing airily.

"I await your command, _Dovahkiin,"_ said Odahviing.

"I'll see both of you in Windhelm," Revak yelled over the roar of the wings that had begun to move around him. "_Wah fin lok, Odahviing!"_

There was a mighty gust of wind from his wings, and they were lifted from the ground. It was a feeling like nothing he'd ever experienced as the cool breeze blew past his face. He looked down at the fields below them as they began to soar away from Dragonsreach, and anticipated his challenge.

"He's either the bravest man I've ever met, or the biggest fool," Til said in awe.

"Maybe a bit of both," Seara started, watching as the dragon flew toward the mountains. "But if anyone can make it to Sovngarde and back, it's my husband."

* * *

><p>"It goes like this," Til explained as she tightened the back of Seara's newly purchased hide armor. "And then if you want to loosen it, you'll do that right here."<p>

It felt strange to Seara to be wearing anything other than a dress or her nightclothes. Despite the fact that the armor was made to be light, she couldn't help but think it felt oddly heavy and tight. It was only because she'd never worn it before, and she knew she would get used to it, but she still felt uncomfortable. She pushed the feeling to the side, willing herself to be brave like Revak had told her to.

The guards had cleaned up the mess from the attack in Breezehome, but it was still eerie inside. It didn't feel like home, and part of Seara was glad to be leaving. She only wished it didn't require a several day long trip. She stared into the mirror at her reflection, almost unable to recognize herself in her war paint and armor. Her hair fell in waves around her face, but was becoming limp from the day's activities. She started to braid it in a way that would comfort her, and quickly discovered it wasn't working. She glanced over at the stairs as she finished the braid, feeling odd. She'd been unable to escape from the man who'd attacked her because he was holding her back with her own hair. It was painful in more ways than one, and almost shameful. It was a memory she wished to leave behind, and she wasn't sure how to do it until she looked at Til.

"Take out your dagger," she said quietly.

"Why?"

"Just… please."

Til removed her dagger from its sheath, holding it down at her side.

"See the second knot down on this braid?" Seara asked, closing her eyes. "I want you to take your dagger… and cut right there."

"Seara, no. I can't. I think you should wait a moment and rethink—"

"I'm asking you to do it _before_ I change my mind."

Til was silent, and Seara took the dagger from her, bringing the hair over her shoulder and cutting it herself. She tossed the severed braid to the floor and untangled the rest of her hair, which now only fell to her shoulders. A tear slid over her cheek as she stared at herself, but she grit her teeth and held the rest back.

"I'm ready," she said.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

**A/N: Wow, thanks for sticking with me through my writer's block, guys. This might not be the best chapter I've done, but I think I've succeeded in getting over it. This whole two weeks between updates thing has got to stop. I apologize! Also, a BIG shout-out to PhantomX0990, who is also writing a story with a character named Revak and was a good sport about everything, even though "Dovahkiin Reborn" was written first. Coincidences happen!**

"We'll start down the path to east," Til began, explaining how they would go about their journey to Windhelm. "And then when the path splits at—are you listening to me?"

But Seara wasn't listening. She was beaming down at a piece of parchment she'd found on accident while rummaging through her satchel. It was a letter.

_Seara, _it read in Revak's hurried yet professional handwriting.

_Your trip has you nervous, but you have already made it this far. Windhelm is only one step on a journey you started years ago, and there will be many more steps after it. Stay strong, Okaaz Miin. "Dahmaan, kiir, prem ahrk praan. Morah, dovah, dreh ni loan hin hahnu. Meyz, kul, kos kril ahrk krif. Alok, revak kendov, kron ahrk lahney. Dahmaan, hun, prem ahrk praan."_

_ Mahfaeraak, _

_ R._

Below the _Dovahlovaas_ and above his abbreviated signature, he'd included a translation in what Seara could only assume was the actual written language of the _Dov._ There was something beautiful about it, and she began to sing the words in her head to the hauntingly soothing melody she would never forget.

"Honestly," Til said in a frustrated tone, jarring Seara back to reality. The sun was low in the sky, because they decided it would be best to leave that evening while most families were eating dinner together, and Til was eager to make some headway before it got too dark. "That's wonderful and all, but this really isn't the time to be focusing on love notes. Can we get started before someone sees us?"

Seara put the letter away, not feeling bothered in the slightest by Til's words, and nodded. The air smelled fresh and new as they walked, and for a while, neither of them had anything to say. A new life. She thought for a long time about what all a brand new life entailed, until she came to the conclusion that it simply brought everything with it. She'd hardly recognized herself in the mirror before they'd left, and no one in Windhelm knew her at all. With her long hair gone, she could form a new attitude and be whoever she wanted to be, and no one would know the difference. Ysolda would find someone new to sweep the floors in Whiterun, and Seara could earn a living in a way that actually mattered. It wouldn't be easy to start over, but the winds were carrying change, and she could feel it in her bones. Maybe, she thought, change could be something to love, and not to fear.

As they passed the Honningbrew Meadery, Seara closed her eyes to keep herself from looking back at the city she was supposed to be putting behind her. Each step became more and more difficult to take until she eventually found herself over the bridge, where the rushing sounds of the White River drowned out her uncertainties. The mountains were before her, and she was ready to make the journey down the path alongside them, with her best friend at her side.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Seara finally allowed herself to take a glance at how far they'd come. The city was small in the distance, but Dragonsreach was still clearly visible on its high perch. She tore her eyes away from the memories she saw there as a wolf's howl broke through the silence around them, sending a chill through her body.

"There's two or more of them, you can bet," Til said in a low voice. "If we keep walking as quietly as we have been, they might not see us as a threat. But if we do run into them, don't forget about your dagger. You're the stronger one, and you can't let them think otherwise. They're only wild dogs."

"Only wild dogs," repeated Seara. "Right. Got it." In truth, she didn't understand how Til could think of the wolves so lightly.

They continued to walk silently, hoping to pass the pack unnoticed, when several yards in front of them, the wolves emerged. They weren't after them, however; they were circling and nipping at what appeared to be the large, hulking form of a man. The sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows and turning everything into an elongated silhouette. Seara squinted in the sun's rays, watching the fight unfold before her. The man had slain three of the beasts almost effortlessly, and before Seara had time to notice what was happening, the remaining two had turned and were running toward her.

With a vicious growl, the dark grey wolf pounced. At the sight of its teeth, Seara's steps faltered, and she fell. In a panic, she covered her face, forgetting nearly everything she'd been told. The second wolf, with jet black fur, yelped as Til placed a forceful kick in its ribcage and drew her bow.

"Fight back!" She yelled in Seara's direction. She took swift steps backward as the wolf advanced on her again, aiming at it and sending an arrow through its right eye. It collapsed with another yelp, and she turned on Seara, who was still kicking at the animal standing over her. "Damn it, Seara! Use your dagger!"

Within a split second, Seara realized Til wasn't going to help her. She grasped her dagger as firmly as she could, sending it forward in a single punchy movement, piercing the wolf's throat. It fell on top of her and she pushed it off, standing. Her knees were shaking and her hands were covered in blood, but Til was smiling.

"Why didn't you help me?" Seara accused. "Why would you just stand there, like… like…"

"Because you weren't going to die," Til said. "For a moment, you forgot what you were supposed to do because you've never had to do it before. But as you realized you were in danger, your instincts kicked in. You can fight, I know you can. Anyone can. And look at you, you're alive!"

Forgetting the blood on her hands, Seara brushed the dirt off her left arm and succeeded only in smearing the sticky crimson down its length. She made a disgusted face, but looked up at her friend with a new realization. She'd defended herself. For the first time in her life, she hadn't relied on anyone else to save her. It was as if she could feel her life turning around as she stood there.

"New at this, are you?" Asked the man the wolves had attacked first. Now that he was closer, Seara noticed he wasn't a man at all; he was an Orc. His dark green skin covered one of the most muscular bodies she'd ever seen, and his teeth were quite menacing if she was being honest with herself. He had short brown hair and black eyes that should've been angry, but instead, they seemed to hold a sadness Seara couldn't understand.

"Y-yes," she replied truthfully.

"By the time I was your age, I had already been fighting for over fifteen years. Think about that."

"What are you doing out here?" Til questioned. "Are you hunting?" She eyed the three wolves he'd killed, and Seara noticed that just beyond them, the bodies of two sabre cats were lying dead as well.

"Hunting? Oh, no," said the Orc. "I'm waiting to die."

"To die?" Seara stepped forward. "Are you hurt? I could heal you. You don't have to—"

"I'm not hurt," he told her. "It's just that my time here is finished."

"You don't look that old to me," Til said boldly.

"I'm not old," the Orc replied. "Not by your definition of the word. I've never understood you Nords. Nord men let themselves live until they're old and feeble and their hair falls out. To the Orsimer, to die while we still have our dignity is an honor. I've been given a vision of a beautiful death, one I can be proud of, and until I find one, I'm to stay here."

"_Aan brit dinok,_" Seara whispered.

"What?" Til and the Orc asked simultaneously.

"Nothing."

Seara couldn't understand why someone would want to die so early. He obviously had many more years left to live, but was simply choosing not to. She couldn't imagine being unable to grow old, to watch her own family grow and flourish.

"There's so much more to a life than fighting," she said.

"To you. Our cultures are two very different things, and I've already been told it's my time to die. I'm fine with that. In fact, I'm relieved, and if neither of you are willing to give me the death I deserve, then I'll keep waiting."

There was a moment of silence between all of them.

"I'll do it," Til finally said.

"Are you crazy?" Seara exclaimed. "You're about to murder someone."

"Not murder," the Orc explained. "I've asked for it. And I'm not going to die without a fair fight." He looked at Til. "Do you still want to do it?"

"I can. I'll do it. I took down her husband in a fight. I mean, you don't know him, but that's something, I'd say."

"My _husband _is not an Orc," Seara said through gritted teeth.

Til ignored her, and before long, the fight was underway. To Seara's surprise, Til had the advantage; the Orc was wielding a greatsword, making him much more powerful, but incredibly slow. As small and quick as she was, Til was able to dodge nearly all of his swings, hitting him with several of her own in return. Her steel sword was twice as fast as his weapon of choice, and before long, he was on his knees.

"Are you ready?" Til asked respectfully.

"I am," he answered, turning to Seara. "With the end of one life, a new one starts. That's what I've always thought. Good luck on your journey."

Til stepped forward and put one hand on his shoulder as she plunged her sword through his chest. With a final breath, the Orc closed his eyes, and she laid him down in the grass beside the path.

"Well," she said. "We've got a trip to make. I guess that means we should get moving, doesn't it?" And with that, she started walking.

Just like that. A death. An Orc lay dead in front of where Seara stood, and he'd been alive only moments ago, speaking, breathing. Now, his eyes were closed and blood was running out of the wound in his chest. His flesh was likely going cold, and before long, there would be more wolves arriving to take care of the body in their own natural way. He would be eaten, and Til was walking away. Seara had seen people die before. That assassin Til had killed without hesitation in the forest, the two in Riften, and the one in her home Revak had thrown down the stairs and choked. But this was different. The assassins were criminals, horrible people who found enjoyment in taking the lives of others. She didn't personally know the Orc, but he seemed genuine, and Til had thought nothing of ending his life. Seara let her mouth hang slightly open as she stared at his body, and her eyes started to water. He could've been anyone. Her father, Til, herself… even Revak. Was that how her mother had died? Alive one moment, and dead the next? In an instant?

"Are you coming?" Til called from several feet ahead.

"Yes," Seara squeaked. She forced her feet to move and her thoughts to vanish, and she was on her way again. They agreed to travel through the night under cover of the dark to reach their destination faster, and no matter how tired she got, Seara didn't show it. Without all the fires lit around Whiterun, the sky was beautifully clear, and she couldn't keep herself from admiring it. The only things that bothered them through the night were more wolves, and Til was able to shoot most of them from a distance.

"Wait," Seara commanded as she spotted a wolf from afar; it was still unaware of their presence. Til had her bow drawn, but refrained from shooting her arrow and glanced in Seara's direction. "I want to try."

"You want… to try and kill it yourself? I admire your courage, but you're not trained with a bow yet. I can teach you if you'd like, but now isn't really the time."

"I don't need your bow," Seara stated.

She crouched down low, taking cover in some brush as the wolf's ears perked up. Seara was curious of her own abilities. She knew she was excellent at casting spells, but had only practiced with restorative magic. If she was going to be good at anything offensively, it suddenly dawned on her that it would probably be offensive magic. Everyone in Tamriel, as far as she'd learned in reading, was born with the ability to cast a spell, both offensive and defensive. When Revak had been mad, she'd seen him involuntarily clench a burst of flames in his left fist, and he'd used flames in both hands to challenge Odahviing earlier that day. He never used spells offensively because most of the magic he possessed, uniquely, was held within his voice. But even as someone who was focused on weapon-based combat, he could still cast a spell or two. If he could do it, she was positive she could.

She concentrated as hard as she could to steer her mind away from restoration as she held her hand out, palm up. Her eyelids fluttered as she thought, and eventually, a burst of flame erupted out of her palm and hovered an inch over her skin, warming her. The wolf caught sight of the light and began to snarl, running at her. She backed up several feet and climbed up onto the top of a mossy rock formation, not feeling quite confident enough to challenge it on ground level. The boulder perch allowed her a good view of the wolf below her, and she extended her arm to let the flames do their work. As soon as the wolf collapsed at the base of the rock, she hopped down, feeling proud of herself.

"Did you see that?" She shook her hand to extinguish the flames, beaming. "I've never even used a destruction spell before! That was amazing! I mean, not to brag or anything, but—"

"You have every right to brag," Til told her. "But I'll probably teach you to use a bow anyway. The pelt on that guy isn't exactly salvageable anymore."

They laughed before moving on again, and Seara felt newer by the minute. She now knew from her own experience that she was able to defend herself if she needed to, and although she never thought she'd be happy about killing anything, she was. The sky was beginning to lighten and the air was getting colder, and she knew they'd made significant enough progress to have entered Eastmarch. She could see snow on the ground in the distance, but it held her attention only briefly. The sound of rushing water filled her ears as the sun peeked out over the mountains; it was louder than the river at home. She started to walk faster, eager to find the source of the sound, for once leaving Til behind.

"Traveler!" shouted a friendly voice from up ahead. Seara looked around and spotted a few men standing on a ledge, all three of them holding a bottle of Honningbrew Mead.

"Yes?" Seara asked shyly as she approached them.

"Come and share a bottle of Honningbrew Mead with us on this fine day, won't you?"

"Oh," she stopped, examining them. They were all intoxicated, though happily so, and still very much aware. "I don't know."

"It's on us, adventurer. How could you refuse such a wonderful drink in such a wonderful place?"

Adventurer. The simple word made her swell with pride, and as Til caught up to her, Seara looked around, realizing that the rushing water was coming from the very ledge the men were standing on. Her breath caught at the sight of it, and she was unable to hold back a smile. A steep, cascading waterfall was rushing over the edge of the rocks, crashing downward into a shallow pool below. It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen, and the men watched her as she admired it.

"You know," she said. "I'll take one."

The three men began to cheer for her, and she laughed at how easily amused they were. They handed a bottle to Til as well, and Seara turned to her as they both took a drink.

"A trip like this doesn't have to be all bad, does it?" She asked. Til smirked, seeing a change in her friend. "I've never seen a waterfall in person before. I've only read about them, or seen sketches."

Revak got to see these things on a daily basis. Or at least, he had, before he'd met her. For a moment, she was terrified he was planning to give up things like waterfalls for someone like her. She wouldn't let him, if that was what he was planning to do, but something inside her knew he would never be able to stop wandering. She wondered how many times he'd stopped to stare at something just like this, just to take in the world around him, and she felt jealous. She thought of him flying across Skyrim on the back of a dragon, seeing the land from the clouds, and realized there were so many stories left untold, all of them being stories she wanted to hear. All at once, she realized why he made her promise to travel. She was determined to start making memories as soon as she could, and made her way with small steps toward the edge of the rocky outcropping, holding both of her arms out to balance herself. Placing one foot in front of the other, she didn't stop until the toes of her boots were an inch over the edge.

"Seara, what are you _doing?_" Til cried, sounding frightened. She started to follow her to the edge to pull her back, but one of the men stopped her.

"This girl has never seen a waterfall before, and you're going to stop her in the middle of her experience? Let her live!" he said simply.

"I swore I would protect her with my life, and she's one stumble away from throwing it out with both hands!"

"Shhh," the man hushed.

Seara was still smiling, and in a second of bravery, she closed her eyes and let the spray from the rushing water cover her face and arms. It gave her goosebumps, and she backed away from the ledge, feeling dizzy. She twirled around, thanked the men for her drink in an airy sort of way, and danced off. She stood on her tip-toes back on the road, spying the great walls of Windhelm in the distance.

"Til," she called. She paused, waiting for Til to look at her. "Race you the rest of the way."

Til's stern look broke into a grin, and the two of them began to run without stopping. They passed a mill and Seara nearly tripped over the snow-line, laughing as the cold hit her legs. The clouds overhead said they weren't finished snowing but were rather taking a break, and by the time they reached the stables, it had started again. The flakes swirled around them in the breeze, and something about them made Seara happy. She looked up at the sky as the snow fell on her face, and thought of what the Orc had said about a death giving way to a new life.

"I'm new," she told Til. "I might not always be brave, but I can try. This is my chance to be new. _Kos kril ahrk krif!" _She started to sing the line from the _Dovahlovaas _as she stood there, thinking about what it meant to be brave and fight. Warriors couldn't be the only ones bravery and courage applied to.

"Singing, smiling _and_ enjoying the weather, hmm?" came a voice from the stables. A Dunmer woman was leaning up against one of the wooden beams supporting the awning, smirking at them. "All at once. You must not be from here. I give the smile two days, and that's a bit much."

Til and Seara stared at her, and Seara wondered what would've made her so bitter.

"That is," she continued, "If you even stay that long."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

**A/N: Thanks again for sticking around, all you cool cats! I enjoy the dialogue in this chapter, even if it's pretty short. Remember to let me know what you think, and if you have any questions or other comments, feel free to PM me, or you can follow me on Twitter uhlisuh626 or on Tumblr at aknottedstory(dot)tumblr(dot)com. **

"It's true, you know," Til said as they made their way through the streets. The snow was fresh-fallen and beautiful, but all the people looked either angry or on edge. "Windhelm isn't exactly known for its hospitality toward… shall we say, _travelers. _You and I should be fine, but I've been here a few times before and it isn't always a pretty sight. I like to think it used to be better, and that maybe it could be better again."

The city was different from Whiterun in every way imaginable. There was a distinct area of housing and shops that looked severely unattended to, even while the inn and the palace towered over it. At a quick glance, Seara had never seen so many Dunmer in one place.

"Why are they all so concentrated in this one area of the city?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"The Dunmer? Oh, they're forced to live there. I mean, I'm sure Ulfric would have no problem with them not living in the city at all. The Argonians and Khajiit aren't even allowed within the gates. But as long as they're here, that's where they have to stay." Til looked at the ground as she spoke, knowing her words weren't something to be proud of.

"And people think this is okay?"

"Well… some people do. I don't. But I agree with Ulfric's cause. I hold him in high regard. I have a passion for this land that I don't want taken from me, and I believe once the dust from the war settles, the citizens of Skyrim will learn to trust again, no matter what race they are. War does terrible things; it makes no difference which side you're on."

Seara had to agree on the subject of war, and she knew the banning of Talos worship was wrong, but so was the blatant racism. She wasn't looking forward to speaking with Jarl Ulfric, because she wasn't sure how much respect she could manage.

As they found themselves further into the city, Seara stopped walking.

"I can't go in there like this," she sighed, eyeing the Palace of the Kings.

"What do you mean?" Til asked. "Don't be ridiculous. We've come all this way so you can speak with Ulfric, and we aren't going to delay it."

"I smell like…"

"Like a traveler. Do you honestly think his Stormcloak soldiers smell any better?"

Til gave Seara a push, and she stumbled forward a step.

"He's known throughout all of Tamriel," she said. "I don't know how to talk to a man like that."

Til tilted her head to the side.

"You're married to a man like that," she stated.

"But he doesn't s_eem_ like that…"

"So maybe Ulfric won't seem like that."

Seara took a deep breath, dreading the inevitable confrontation. Not only was Ulfric apparently mistreating other races, he'd started a rebellion that had killed her mother. If he would've just laid low like the rest of Skyrim, she might still be alive. She pictured him as arrogant and somewhat terrifying from the rumors she'd heard, and arrogant, terrifying people were generally the kinds she tried hardest to stay away from. From afar, a guard was eyeing them suspiciously, and as they approached, he stopped them.

"What business do you have in the Palace of the Kings?" he questioned. His expression was stern, but more than anything, he looked cold and tired. His accent sounded very much like Revak's, and Seara had to keep herself from smiling. Windhelm, she reminded herself, was his home.

"I'm here to have a word with Jarl Ulfric," she told him with as much courage as she could put in her light voice. She cleared her throat. "I'm here on behalf of a friend."

"A friend? Of Ulfric Stormcloak? Listen," the guard started. "Ulfric doesn't just get drop-ins from friends, or friends of friends. Not anymore. The Imperial Army has been making unwanted advances as of late, and—"

"Wait," Til interrupted. "The Imperial Army is threatening to attack? I thought this war was over." She narrowed her eyes and her voice shook.

"There haven't been any direct threats," replied the guard, "but their camps dot the map like never before. So no," he turned back to Seara, "Ulfric Stormcloak is not accepting visits from 'friends.'"

"Do I look like an Imperial Soldier to you?" Seara asked. "If need be, you can escort me directly to the Jarl to ensure there is no harm done."

The guard thought about her offer for a moment, deciding that maybe a venture into the warmth of the Palace might not be such a bad thing after all. He turned away without a word, motioning for them to follow, and pushed open the palace doors, which let out an eerie creak. As soon as she set foot over the threshold, Seara felt her breath catch.

Their footsteps were hard on the stone floor, and the sound echoed off the walls until they reached an elegant blue rug larger than any rug she had ever seen. It muffled the sound of their approach as they walked alongside a lengthy table covered in candles and a feast any family would be envious of; above the table were several chandeliers, and there were banners lining the walls. Each banner proudly sported the Stormcloaks' trademark blue behind the white outline of the head of a roaring bear. Realizing she must have looked terrible gaping at her surroundings, Seara turned her attention to the front of the room, where Ulfric Stormcloak sat on his throne, watching them closely as they approached.

He was a much larger man than Seara had imagined him to be, and quite a bit older as well, but he still had the air of a leader. He looked weary, as if he hadn't slept peacefully in quite some time. Despite the lines on his face undoubtedly caused by stress, his hair wasn't gray. It was blonde, like the hair of most true-blooded Nords, and there was a fire in his eyes that immediately let his guests know he wasn't done fighting—not yet. Seara wondered if he was still rather young, and the war had aged him. He didn't seem like the type of man who could find peace, and after all the years of war, she understood why.

"These women are here to speak to you, my Jarl." The Stormcloak guard stood as straight as he could, nearly opposite of the way he'd slouched at his post outside in the snow. His voice was clear, yet when he'd stopped them, he hadn't avoided the occasional mumble. "On behalf of a friend."

There was a heavy silence as Ulfric continued to examine them, one hand on his beard and the other rested on the arm of his throne. After a lengthy pause, he smiled and let out a laugh. The laugh was not friendly; rather, it seemed cold and harsh.

"A friend, hmm?" He too possessed the northern accent, and even though his voice was much deeper than Revak's, something about them was incredibly similar. It was strong, and she remembered the stories she'd heard of Ulfric Shouting at High King Torygg. Whether he'd Shouted him to death, or only to his knees, she didn't care. She wondered if all men and women with the ability to Shout sounded as strong and confident as Revak and Ulfric did when they spoke.

"Yes," Seara said simply. She didn't refer to him as Jarl, because part of her was still unsure if he deserved her respect.

"I haven't received visits or word from friends in many a year." Ulfric looked down at her, all traces of laughter gone from his face. "I don't make _friends_ anymore. I've fueled a war. I make allies, and I make enemies. What do you expect me to think you are, then? You can't even come alone."

Standing before the leader of the Rebellion, Seara felt small as he questioned her. She was dirty from her trip, probably didn't smell very pleasant, and her hair was a mess. She'd never spoken to a person with so much authority, and she could feel her bravery and confidence waning. Til shuffled next to her, and Seara cleared her throat before looking at the floor and back up again. _Just say it,_ she told herself.

"My name is Seara, and my friend Til is my guide. I would be no threat to you. Neither would she. I was sent by the Dragonborn."

Mutters and whispers filled the room around her, coming from other Stormcloak soldiers and guards. A few of them wore curious looks, and she remembered Revak telling her he'd been an Officer in the army. Ulfric's steward looked at him, and his right-hand, a gruff looking man dressed in complete Officer uniform, looked outraged.

"The Dragonborn, you say?" Ulfric tilted his head some, looking interested, while everyone else looked on in disbelief. "I know the Dragonborn personally. He would not have sent someone like you to deliver word to me."

"The circumstances are different, and I need you to listen to me…" Hoping to add an extra effect, Seara continued, a little bitter. "…My Jarl."

"Nothing further needs to be said unless you can tell us how you know Stormblade," the Officer growled.

Seara hadn't ever heard Revak referred to by any other name than the Dragonborn, but she disregarded it.

"I know him because I'm his wife," she whispered.

"What was that?" The Officer yelled. Seara flinched. "I can't properly hear you when you don't have enough respect to speak up in front of your true High King." She could feel a rage building within herself at the arrogance of this man, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I said," she repeated strongly, taking off her wedding ring and holding it out in front of her. "I know him because I'm his wife."

A few people sniggered around her, and her face got hot. They wouldn't believe her.

"And that," the Officer concluded, "proves that this foolish woman knows nothing of what she speaks of. Pah," he laughed heartlessly.

"Galmar," Ulfric commanded. "Let her be. I want to hear what else she has to say."

"We have no time for this, Ulfric. The Imperial Army—"

"Enough."

Galmar quieted, but Seara could see the words flying around in his mind.

"A wise woman marries a man because she loves him," Ulfric went on. "To love a man, I would assume you'd first know his name."

Seara held his eye contact as she put the ring back on. He was testing her.

"For a man of such great importance, to share a name means to have an unbreakable bond of trust. A marriage is the same. I cannot share his name with you."

Another period of silence. Ulfric nodded slowly and proceeded to stand, stepping down from his throne and meeting her on even ground.

"Come with me," he requested, turning from her. Her refusal to reveal Revak's name had been all he needed to give her the chance she begged for. He walked through a door and a narrow hallway, leading her into what appeared to be the war room. Til was the last to enter, and he asked that she shut the door behind her. "I presume the both of you know the Dragonborn's true name?"

Til nodded, and Ulfric leaned forward with his hands on the map table. He looked over his shoulder at them.

"Well?"

"Revak." Seara held her head high as she said his name, not wanting to risk appearing suspicious.

"You're married to Revak," he said flatly.

"Newly," she answered. "It's only the second day. I've traveled from Whiterun to—"

"Then why isn't he with you? Why would he send you on a journey with no protection other than a girl?"

Til looked offended.

"This _woman_ is one of the best warriors I know," Seara defended. When Ulfric had nothing to say in response, she continued. "I was sent here to escape the turmoil in my own city. Revak is being hunted. The Dark Brotherhood is after him, and it has put Til and I in danger as well. The journey was a secret. We're to make a life here, and I hear you have a house in the city that belongs to my husband."

"An escape. I find it increasingly hard to believe he hasn't accompanied you. He was my best commanding Officer. If he truly loved you, he would want you protected. Where is he?"

"I _am _protected, and he's… in Sovngarde," Seara said truthfully, sighing and knowing how ridiculous she sounded. Ulfric stared at her with his tired eyes. "Alduin is back, just like legend foretold. This is the reason behind the dragons returning. To rid the land of his evil, Revak was needed in Sovngarde. I know it sounds like a lie. Please, believe me."

"Seara," Til said, coming to a realization. "The letter."

"Yes!" Seara exclaimed. "You have to have received documents and letters from him in the past. I have a letter from him you can look at… here…" She started to dig around in her satchel, eventually pulling out the parchment and handing it to Ulfric. His eyes scanned the page, and he looked up at her.

"This is his," he agreed. "I've received forgeries over the years, but a letter from Stormblade cannot be imitated."

"He'll be here soon, I know he will. I have faith in him. So you'll help us?" Seara asked hopefully.

The great bear of a man studied her for several moments, seemingly lost in thought, before he reached for a piece of parchment and hastily jot down a few notes.

"Take this," he said plainly, "and show it to Elda at Candlehearth Hall. She'll set the both of you up with a room. I'll speak to Jorleif about the property, but it may be a few days until it's ready for you to move in. Galmar is right. There are more important things to focus on. Primarily the prevention of another crippling war."

And without another word or even a glance, he turned to leave. He said nothing to either of them as they passed by his throne to exit the palace, and if he hadn't have been gracious enough to agree to help them, Seara would have thought him to be extremely cold.

The snow on the ground chilled her feet through her boots as she made her way to the inn with Til at her side. The snow was still falling in the heavy flakes that were rare in Whiterun, and the roofs of all the buildings were blanketed in a thick layer of it. It was much too early to stay in a room, especially with all the places a brand new city had to offer. They stopped by the inn to show Elda the innkeeper Ulfric's note, wanting to be safe in knowing the rooms could be reserved for them, even if the traffic picked up later.

"A note from Ulfric, eh?" Elda questioned. "Not bad. Anyone welcomed into Windhelm by the Jarl is welcomed by me. I'll have those rooms ready for you in just a bit."

"Thank you," Seara said genuinely, choosing to ignore the woman's hinted opinion that Dunmer wouldn't be given rooms. "We should be back by dark."

"I would hope so!" Elda's eyes grew wide, and she leaned forward to whisper at them, looking around cautiously. "There've been murders in the streets at night lately. Of pretty young women… not unlike yourselves."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

**A/N: I've been debating for a long time over whether or not I should include this chapter, but I think I should. Please, even if you'll never review another chapter again in your life, let me know what you think of this one. Writing this actually gave me a few nightmares. Honestly. It took a part of me and twisted it. This is the result.**

The screeching roars of the dragons circling overhead were drowning out Revak's thoughts as he stood frozen at the base of the stone steps that seemed to lead nowhere. His right cheekbone was throbbing; blood was running down the side of his face where the second dragon he'd encountered had whipped him with the end of its powerful, scaled tail. The tail had also caught the sleeve of his armor, tearing it and leaving several cuts across his bicep. He feel the blood drying on his neck in the bitter cold wind. His legs were weak. A pile of ashes lay at his feet, and he clutched the staff of perished Dragon Priest Nahkriin in one hand, feeling its electric charge pulse through him. His bow was in the other, feeling heavier than it should've, and his grip on it was loosening. He was sure he could collapse any moment, exhausted and willing to give up. _Just one step,_ he told himself. _Then another._ These were the words he pushed to the front of his thoughts after every step he climbed— _just one more. Then you can quit._

_"Skuldafn fen kos dinok!" _One of the dragons snarled.

If Revak was determined of anything, it was that Skuldafn wouldn't mean his death. Only the dead and the _dovah _wandered the grounds he was standing on, and he wasn't welcome. Flinching slightly at the pain it caused, he lifted the staff and placed it upright in its place in the seal before him. If he wasn't welcome, he would simply leave. The ground quaked and began to break up at the drop-off where he stood, and a deafening, rushing wind enveloped him as a nearly blinding light shot upward out of the ground. The pillar of light continued through the clouds, and Revak stepped forward as much as he could. Skuldafn was behind him and Sovngarde awaited him, and he stood on the literal divide between the two, contemplating the odd feeling it brought. Here he was, very much alive, seeking to enter the Land of the Honored Dead. He placed a fist over his heart in respect, and let himself fall forward.

The fall itself was unlike anything he'd ever experienced; his stomach did a flip, and his body may have as well, but he was unsure. His field of vision was black and empty, and he couldn't tell which way he was moving. The sensation only continued for a few short seconds, and without any indication he'd hit the ground, he found himself lying on a flat, stone ledge. The gash over his cheekbone was soothed by the stone, cold as ice, and he stayed where he was for as long as he dared without opening his eyes. It was rest. Nothing was immediately upon him, and he could've slept right there on the stone for days. Another dragon's roar echoed all around him, and his eyes shot open like a child awakening from a nightmare.

Mist. It was the only thing to be seen in all directions, closing in on him where he lay, so thick it was almost suffocating. Chills ran through his body as the damp air pressed in around him, and he felt true fear for the first time in a long while. Another roar rang through the sky, much closer this time. He pulled himself up on his elbows, wincing and scanning the immediate surroundings for his bow. It was just out of arm's reach, and he pulled his body forward before reaching out as far as he could with a trembling hand. He let out a pained sigh as the damaged and burned tissue on his arm stretched. It took him a few moments to calm his shaking fingers enough to get a grip on the bow, and he pulled it toward him, leaving a smudged trail of crimson behind. He slowly forced himself to sit upright, feeling dizzy as he looked at the blood on the ground. He'd been lying in it, and it was all his own.

Desperate to feel some sort of relief, he lifted his eyes to the sky. It was the only thing that wasn't shrouded in mist, and he was mesmerized by it. All the colors of the most beautiful sunsets swirled in a continuous rotation above him, in a mixture of thick clouds and stars. He could see the constellations he learned as a boy, and the shapes of the clouds seemed to change with his thoughts. The wispy outline of a dragon formed among the other figures, floated along for a while, and dissipated, leaving several new and bright stars in its place.

"Revak," called a female voice through the mist. He looked forward, but saw nothing. Thinking he may have imagined it, he waited, feeling his body tense up, until he heard the voice again. "Stand," she said.

Her voice was soothing, like a mother comforting her child as she helped him grow. He did as she said, feeling every bone in his body groan.

"Come find me!" There was a slight catch in her words, as if she was holding back tears, and instinctually desiring to help her, Revak took his first step into the mist.

The air became colder with every step he took, and he found his eyes darting back and forth, examining the area with a new paranoia. Alduin, the World-Eater, was lurking about; he'd heard him. Anything could show itself with no prior warning. He tripped over his own steps as he stumbled along the barely visible path, distributing most of his weight to his left side as he went. After several yards, a dark figure appeared in the mist ahead, and he squinted, trying to make out who it may have been. He stopped short in front of her, his mouth slightly open as he looked on. Her long brown hair had a few grey streaks in it, and her eyes were dark and heartrending. She stood with one hand over her chest just below her left collarbone, and blood was seeping through her tattered blue dress and staining her fingers.

"I can't breathe," she choked. "Take it, take it out. Please!"

She moved her hand to reveal the broken shaft of an arrow. As she sobbed, her breath came in short gasps. A small drop of blood began to form in the corner of her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. Revak lunged forward, moving her hand away from the wound and examining it. In the mortal world, to remove the arrow with no complex knowledge of healing magic would kill her.

"Just take it," she begged. He did as she said, gently coaxing what remained of the arrow out of her chest, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she raised her hands back to the site of the wound. She removed them a moment later, and the wound was closed, leaving behind a dark stain, but no sign of injury. "Thank you, Dragonborn." She shook her head at him. "Thank you, Revak."

"How do you know my name?" He questioned, still in slight shock.

"Everyone here knows your name," she answered simply. "We've been waiting for you for longer than you know. When I arrived here on the day of my death, the mists had already overtaken the beauty I'd longed for my entire mortal life. Sovngarde had lost its ability to sooth the souls that entered her realms. I have been bleeding, dying, since the day I arrived. My death was on-going, forever. The souls of the mortal dead do not reserve the right to rid ourselves of the pain and sorrow we feel as we die. Only the gods reserve this right. With the World-Eater's domination over Sovngarde, the only way to feel the peace I hunted was to reach the comforts of Shor's Hall, but my soul cannot understand these paths, and I cannot find the way. I've wandered for years through the mist, seeking solace, and I have yet to find it. I travel in circles, running. The World-Eater hunts me. Do you know the way?"

Alduin roared from somewhere in the distance, and her eyes grew wide in fear.

"It is he, who devours the souls of the dead! Hurry, please, _do you know the way?_"

Revak gathered his wits, knowing he wasn't sure of the way at all, but would have to find it. The mist was thickening.

"Take my hand," he told her. "I'll lead you."

She grabbed hold of his hand and followed behind him as he took a few steps into the fog.

"_Lok vah koor!" _He Shouted. The air around them began to clear and the path lay clearly ahead, but within seconds, the mist began to reappear. His voice wasn't strong enough to overpower it, and he felt sick. Bracing himself for danger, he pushed on blindly.

"_Dovahkiin!" _Alduin's voice bellowed. _"Joor mey! Aan grah voth Alduin, aam? _Ha! _Dinok fen meyz. Ag, Dovahkiin!_" Revak felt the woman's hand tremble as the menacing words hit her ears. She'd been living in this fear for years, and an hour would have been enough to drive a person to insanity.

Ahead, a figure stepped out of the mist, looking troubled and tired. He was donning the uniform of an Imperial soldier, and a gaping slit cut across his throat. It was still fresh, the blood dripping down the front of his cuirass, and when he caught sight of others headed toward him, his expression turned hostile. He grabbed at Revak's arm, his fingers digging into the flesh that was already crossed with gashes and covered in burns, his words coming out in eerie snarls.

"Dragonborn! Why do you haunt us here? You don't belong here. I was sure of justice; I was _sure_ you would rot in Oblivion for the murder of my brothers and sisters. You are wrong to call yourself a Son of Skyrim; _a disgrace! _You dishonor your land by helping tear her to pieces like you've torn apart families and killed innocent men! Look what you've done to me!" He clawed at his throat, bloodying his fingers. "You did this to me! You slit my throat at Neugrad, for you cannot fight as a man! You fight as a _coward!_"

"Leave him," the woman said softly. "There is nothing that can be done for him."

Revak staggered backward as the man swiped at him, leaving bloody fingerprints over his face. The soldier drew a sword and brandished it at him, sobbing and gasping.

"I'll do the same to you! _I'll do the same to you!"_

Revak drew his own dagger to defend himself as he backed away and turned to continue down the path, leaving the soldier behind and having trouble controlling his breathing.

"Our blood is on _your_ hands, Dragonborn!"

The dagger he held slipped from his right hand, now covered in blood. His red fingers trembled and he looked over at the woman following him, paralyzed.

"My hands," he whispered. "My…"

"Do not be distracted by the portrayals of your guilt, Revak. Forgive yourself, and carry on."

The portrayals of his guilt. He scanned the immediate surroundings as several other soldiers stared at him. Several with his own arrows visibly protruding from them, another with a stab wound over his heart. Among the victims was a young boy, barely old enough to hold a sword, yelling that he fought for his father in Solitude. The shot had to have been accidental, because Revak knew he would never kill a child. Would he?

"What have I done?" he choked. He lifted a hand to his mouth to cover it, but as the blood touched his face he turned, disgusted.

"You've fought for a cause, and you've fought valiantly. If you let them, these memories will drag you to your death." He could already feel them doing just that. The woman squeezed his blood-soaked hand, and the soldiers disappeared into the mist. "Go."

After several minutes that seemed like hours, the mist began to thin out, and eventually cleared as he walked. Before him was a towering building, larger than he'd ever seen, suspended on an island in what appeared to be mid-air. A coursing river was flowing in front of him, and with nowhere else to go, it poured over the edge of the land, falling into nothingness. Connecting the ground he stood on to the Hall of Valor was the incredible skeletal spine of a whale, stretching across the vast expanse to create a massive bridge.

"The Whale-Bone Bridge," said the woman breathlessly. "Not even I have seen its wonders yet. I thank you for escorting me to my rest. I would be honored if you would make your first journey into the Hall at my side."

Revak nodded. This woman had acted more of a guide to him than he had to her, whether she realized it or not. She brought a sense of comfort, and her wisdom went beyond his own.

"To be deemed worthy of entrance as a mortal man, you must test your strength against Tsun, the Nordic God of Trials. Speak up, Dragonborn, and Tsun will honor you. Do you have anything to ask of me before we cross?" She held his gaze, and he couldn't keep himself from questioning her.

"Who are you?" he asked, feeling foolish.

"Who am I..." she repeated thoughtfully. "I'm a woman who died doing something she loved, with as much of me as I could put into it. I'm no one special, dear."

She reached out to him, placing both hands on either side of his face, and sending a comforting magic through him. He was relieved of his aches, pains, wounds and burns all at once, and while he watched a bright smile form on her lips, he thought to himself that he only knew one other person who could take away all his hurt with a single touch. Silently, he stared at her. After a long while of taking everything in, he spoke.

"You're Seara's mother," he said.

"And I couldn't be more proud of my daughter." Her eyes filled with tears, and she tilted her head as she took hold of his hand and glanced at his ring. "Her journey was successful, and she waits for you. Return to her."

"I will," Revak promised. "I told her I would've loved to meet you. Now that I have, the likeness makes my heart ache. I have one more question, though, if you don't mind."

She looked at him questioningly, and he had trouble finding the words to voice his thoughts. It was a query that had been on his mind since he found himself lying on the ground what seemed like an incredibly long time ago, but he hadn't even formed it coherently in his own thoughts. He shook his head, unable to ask the one thing he wanted to know most. Something about the subject filled him with sorrow, and she must have been able to see it in his eyes.

"You want to know the fate of your parents."

Revak stared at her in slight disbelief, amazed at her ability to know exactly what he needed. He tried and failed several times to answer her, before settling for a nod.

"The World-Eater is a danger to all here in Sovngarde. I have narrowly escaped his jaws on more than one occasion, and for that, I am thankful," Seara's mother started. She shook her head slowly. "Others were not so fortunate."

He closed his eyes, taking in her words.

"So what does that mean for them? Where are they now?"

"When one arrives in Sovngarde for their final rest, only the soul, the spirit, remains. My soul was troubled, that's why you found me in the state you did. When The Worm devours a soul, there is nothing left to carry on. The result is just that; it's nothing. There is… nothing."

Revak turned his face from her, feeling a very large portion of his heart break. Not even the comfort of a spirit to talk to remained. No comfort in knowing a soul lived on. Nothing. A rage boiled within him, and the sadness he felt swept over him like physical pain.

"Why do you hide your face from me, Dragonborn?"

"Someone along the line said that a true man never sheds his tears," he told her bitterly.

"Someone along the line had a _very_ easy life," she responded.

He gathered the courage to make eye contact, but said nothing; it was the only way to adequately describe the way he felt.

"I'm sorry," she told him.

"So am I." He looked to the bridge, pulling the Amulet of Talos from within his armor and closing his hand around it. After asking for the strength to take on his task, he let go of it, letting it rest visibly against his chest. There was no hiding it; he needed Talos' guidance as he continued. "I'm ready."

He approached the bridge with confidence in his steps, before a near giant of a man stopped him. His chest was bare, and his fur armor only covered him from the waist down. A battle axe was strapped to his back, and his long, dark hair was blowing in the gentle breeze. The stifling air that accompanied the mist was nonexistent surrounding the Hall of Valor, and it was refreshing.

"By what right do you, a mortal man, claim entry into Shor's Hall?" Tsun boomed, towering over Revak where he stood.

"By right of birth," he answered with as much strength as he could. "I am the Dragonborn, here to rid Sovngarde of Alduin and restore peace to the souls that inhabit it."

"_Dovahkiin! _It has been far too long since I've tested my strength against a worthy opponent, another with the Blood in his veins! I will gladly grant you entrance, if you can best me. I've seen every weapon made; I don't want to see another. I want to hear your Voice!"

Revak took a step back, letting the Voice fill him.

"_Zun haal viik!" _He barked. Tsun's axe was ripped from his hands, and it rapidly spun its way over the edge of the cliff. The demigod smirked at him, letting his hands fall at his sides.

"You are impressive, _Dovahkiin. _But Alduin cannot be disarmed. Is your Voice strong enough to challenge the first-born of Akatosh? Or will you falter and ultimately fail us?"

_"Fus… Ro dah!"_ Revak yelled, determined to prove himself.

As the dust kicked up around his feet, Tsun stood unflinching.

"Your Voice is stronger than that, _Dovahkiin. Fus!"_

With only one word, Revak felt himself start to fall backward. He hit the ground with a force he hadn't felt since his training at High Hrothgar, and it took all his strength to keep from yelling out. He sat up, and Tsun charged toward him with a Whirlwind Sprint, using a massive hand to knock him back to the dirt.

"Just as you tested your friend the wolf, so do I test you. You lack the courage you need to continue. Prove me wrong! _Yol!"_

The burst of flame heated the air as it approached, and Revak yelled the first thing that came to his mind.

"_Tiid!" _As time slowed to a near halt, he rolled out of the way and forced himself to stand. Tsun let out another burst of fire as everything sped up again, and Revak challenged it.

"_Fo!"_ The stream of frost met with the flames, where the two cancelled each other out in a cloud of steam. Tsun stood tall, and in the slight pause, Revak felt he might have been waiting. Without hesitation, he took his second chance to topple him. "_Fus ro dah!" _

He sent his words forward with double the force he had the first time, and Tsun tried and failed to keep his balance. He dropped down on a knee to stabilize himself, and then got back up.

"I cannot be brought down, simply because I am not mortal. Your _thu'um _commands, _Dovahkiin. _You may enter. Take with you the woman who seeks this place, for she has fought to save her brothers and sisters, and she has died with honor in their eyes."

Revak placed a fist over his heart and ascended the wide steps to the bridge with Seara's mother at his side. There were tears in her eyes as they crossed, and her gaze never left the building before them. A blissful smile played on her lips, and he could see the pride swelling within her. With each step, the blood stains from her arrow wound faded. Two very different roars battled one another in the distance; the roar of the water as it cascaded over the cliffs behind them, and Alduin's roar as he continued to devour still more souls. The water was winning, and he felt a sense of comfort; Alduin wasn't permanent. He could be drowned out by water, and he could be put to death, and Revak would be the one to do it, no matter what it cost him. Marna had taught him growing up that revenge caused nothing but harm, but as far as he was concerned, harm was all he wanted to cause.

Death. A banishment. No eternity; not even one with nothing in it. Simply ceasing to be. Just like his mother and father.

He looked over at Seara's mother as he pushed the Hall doors open, noticing that the stains covering her dress were completely gone. Her tears vanished as she set foot in the building for the very first time, and she was unable to cry. She took in her surroundings, wonderstruck. The feasts were laid out on the long tables, the food was roasting, and the mead was flowing; the supply would never run out. The whole Hall was lit in a golden glow, and the air warmed Revak's skin. It was warmth a fire couldn't provide, unlike anything he'd ever felt, and the prospect of going back outside was dreadful.

"I can never thank you enough for leading me to my rest," Seara's mother whispered. "I'll see you when you emerge victorious. But as for right now, Shor is calling me."

She squeezed his hand and let it fall before walking off to meet Shor, who Revak was unable to see, and after they'd parted ways, someone called out to him.

"The Dragonborn is here! At last, he has reached our Hall. The hour has come. Prepare yourselves."

From legend, the man was unmistakable. He was Ysgramor, leader of the Five-Hundred, the very first of the men and women to settle in Skyrim. Blonde and muscled, with armor as old as the land itself, he addressed Revak directly, leaving him shocked.

"On this day, your name is immortalized. These halls have rung with your praises even before you arrived, for you fight with courage unmatched. You fight for your home, and for her people, and now it is time for you to execute that which you came for. The World-Eater is to be destroyed! The wretched Worm that ails this place will be cast out at last!"

"I've waited for this," Revak said strongly. "But I don't know where to begin."

"With us," shouted a woman from across the hall. She crossed the floor, approaching them, clad in steel plate armor with a blanket of golden hair framing her face. She proudly wore her dark war paint in diagonal stripes over her face and neck, and her ancient sword was held at the ready. Two other men followed her, one in robes and one in armor forged of fur and iron, all three of them making up the Heroes of Old, the very same warriors that banished Alduin so many centuries previously.

"Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, Felldir the Old, and Hakon One-Eye," Ysgramor boomed. "The Heroes of Old, the Valiant Ones, the Courageous."

"Dragonborn," Hakon started, readying his battle axe. "We would be honored to fight at your side."

"Many years ago, we banished Alduin for what we thought was eternity, only to see him return," said Felldir. He drew his greatsword, poising himself for a challenge.

"We will not make the same mistake again." Gormlaith shook her head, and smiled wickedly. "The World-Eater dies this day! Will you let us accompany you the rest of the way?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm ready." Revak drew his bow as the heroes yelled out their battle cries, and he let his rage overtake him once more. The four of them raced out the door and into the bitter air, crossing the bridge as fast as they could, and stopping just beyond Tsun's post. The wall of mist was before them, and the tip of Alduin's wing flashed in the distance as he devoured another innocent soul.

"We can't fight the Beast in this mist," Gormlaith yelled.

"I tried clearing it earlier, but I wasn't able to hold it off. He's still too strong," Revak mentioned.

"Together we can clear it," Felldir said. "If we all Shout at once, he won't be able to keep it up for long."

"Together, then!" cried Gormlaith.

After a short pause, all four combined their voices into one collective Shout, the words echoing off the hills.

"_Lok vah koor!" _

The mist cleared momentarily, before Alduin spoke. His voice rumbled throughout the realm, angry and taunting.

"_Mey! Dinok fen meyz!"_ he snarled. _"Ven mul riik!"_

The mist quickly thickened again, just as intact as it was before.

"Again!" commanded Gormlaith.

It took them three more tries at clearing the mist before Alduin finally gave in, leaving their surroundings clear. His roar sounded in the distance, and again, and each time Revak heard it, it was closer and louder.

"He's coming!" he yelled. Feeling the Stormcloak Officer in himself reemerge, he started to think of a plan of attack. "We'll start the battle together, and as soon as we get him on the ground, I'll head to higher ground. He can't attack us all at once if we're spread out. Hold your ground, he's almost here!"

As if on command, the dragon flew over the top of the rubble-topped hill before them, letting out a nasty stream of flames. His scales were blacker than night and the amount of horns framing his face and spine spoke of his high status and strength; his red eyes were piercing as he glared down at them from above.

"Alduin!" Revak hollered, readying an arrow and attempting to calm his shaking hands. "You're corrupt and you're cruel! _Munax!_ Today, you meet your end!"

"_Nid, Dovahkiin! _This day, it is _hin sos _covering these grounds! _Diir, Dovahkiin!"_

Revak released his arrow, puncturing Alduin's left wing. The dragon let out a scream, snarling as he changed his path of flight to dive at Revak, who promptly lashed out with his voice.

The same invisible chains that had pulled Odahviing and the nameless dragon to their defeat or surrender wrapped themselves around Alduin's legs, and despite his struggle, he was forced to the ground. He landed directly in front of Revak, who lost his balance on the shaking ground and fell backward. He crawled away as the dragon's jaws chomped down and barely missed him, fearful. Hakon plunged his sword into Alduin's tail, which he immediately swiped, knocking all three of the Heroes of Old off their feet. He turned to the newly fallen heroes, letting out another burst of flames as he lumbered toward them, and the putrid and unforgettable stench of burning flesh filled the air.

Revak got to his feet, tripping over the start of his own steps as he bolted for the nearby hill. Putting his bow back on his back he started to climb, nearly on all fours so he wouldn't be knocked over again; he clutched the grass in his hands as he went, and it was still cold and wet from the mist. Shouts and battle-cries rang in his ears until Alduin roared again, this time louder than before, and a vicious rumble of thunder boomed through the clouds. Their once peaceful colors turned blood-red and gray, and the stars were no longer visible. Instead, ashes and fire began to rain down upon the fields, the hot coals burning his exposed face and hands. He shook them off while he made his way up the side of the hill unseen, but every attempt to avoid them turned futile as the coals turned into rocks, and the rocks into meteors.

Engulfed in flames, a meteor crashed into the hill beside him, shattering into thousands of pieces with an explosive force and setting fire to the grass. Several of the pieces were launched at Revak's side, and suddenly the sounds of the battle were muffled by a ringing in his ears. He wouldn't be able to hear the cries of the warriors; he needed a vantage point. He scaled the rest of the tall hill as quickly as he could, taking refuge between a large boulder and the remains of a crumbled Word Wall. He drew his bow again just as the Dragonrend began to wear off, and Alduin took flight again, growling menacing words Revak could barely make out.

"Do not hide from me, _Dovahkiin! Ag, paal!"_

As he rose above the hill, Revak sent another arrow at him, catching his snout. He loaded another arrow while chaining Alduin to the ground once more with his Voice, and holding his position as the beast barreled toward him up the mound. He wanted to blind him, to take out his eyes and give himself the upper hand.

_Wait,_ he thought. _Wait for a better shot._

His heart was pounding in his chest as he stood waiting, his only protection the boulder in front of him. Alduin opened his mouth, revealing menacing fangs, and smoke poured out of his nostrils. Just as he was about to send out the fire within him, Revak released his arrow, puncturing the dragon's eye. With a wicked roar, Alduin sent forward an Unrelenting Force powerful enough to lift Revak off his feet. He slammed into the remains of the stone wall behind him and fell forward, unable to catch himself. He landed face down in the rubble, the shards of rock beneath him cutting into his hands. The side of his face rammed into the boulder that he'd previously hidden behind, and the metallic taste of his own blood filled his mouth. He turned his head to the side, spitting it out and watching it spatter all over the rocks beside him as his vision dimmed.

The Dragonrend wore off again, and Alduin took to the skies, bent on destroying the other three warriors who were still attacking him from behind. Revak stood, trying as hard as he could to focus on his target while his vision was still blurring and doubling. He wouldn't be able to take precise aim in his current state, and decided to move away from his goal of blinding Alduin and aim for something bigger. Loading up arrow after arrow, he sent them through the dragon's wings, watching as he lost his balance in flight. Revak ventured to the very edge of the rubble pile, standing as straight as he could and letting the desire for revenge build within him until he couldn't stand it any longer.

_"Yol toor shul!" _he shouted. The flames strengthened as he released them, sending a firestorm over the hill and setting Alduin's wings alight. The blaze burned away the flesh between the puncture wounds his arrows had made, slowly disintegrating what was once majestic and honored.

"_Nid!_" Alduin yelled.

With a flurry of snarls and growls, he crashed into the ground below, sliding several hundred feet before coming to a stop, wingless, in the river just before the drop off. Revak's chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, waiting for Alduin to stir.

He didn't.

All the scales began to burn from his dying body, and Revak watched from above as his bones fell to pieces and every part of him that was left began to vanish into nothing; it was exactly the way he intended. There was no soul to take into his being, simply because Alduin had no remaining soul. He relied on the souls of others to carry on, and as the flames licked at the sky, nameless faces burned within them. Men and women alike were released from his snare, only to burn up within the remains. Whether the faces of his mother and father were displayed, he didn't know; he wouldn't have recognized them if they were. Knowing the World-Eater was vanquished was enough, and Revak closed his stinging eyes, listening to the ringing in his ears fade away as the sounds of a roaring blaze replaced it.

When he opened his eyes again, Alduin was gone. There were no remaining bones or scales, and the skies began to clear. For the first time since he'd arrived, the grass and wildflowers were bathed in sunlight, and the chill in the air disappeared. The true beauty of Sovngarde was astounding, and he didn't want to leave his perch on the hill.

Regardless of what he wanted, he found himself descending to meet with the heroes. He was thankful for their cheers and congratulations, but wasn't paying much attention to them. He was told he could call on them whenever he was in need, and that he would always be welcome, before Tsun told him the time had come for him to return home.

"Please," Revak asked, his voice rough. "Just let me stay for a few more minutes."

Tsun nodded and returned to his post, hollering that when he was ready to return, he needed only to say so.

Right where he stood, Revak stared into the sunlit fields, tiredly removing each of his weapons one by one and dropping them in the grass. What good were they? He left them behind, walking into the center of the grassy field at a leisurely pace, where he lay down and stared at the bright stars, taking a moment to think about nothing. How blissful it was, to have nothing to dwell on.

"I'm proud to call you my son, you know."

Seara's mother sat down in the grass beside him, where she picked a purple wildflower and smelled it. A smile spread across her face, and she laughed lightheartedly.

"It's been so long since I've done that. What a simple thing."

Revak smiled back at her as he sat up and she handed him the flower. She held onto it when he grabbed it, transferring her healing magic through the stem. His pain was relieved and his wounds were healed, and he thanked her whole-heartedly before tucking the flower away in the same pocket as his six year old letter to Seara. He gazed over at the far-off bridge, watching the souls of the dead peacefully make their way across the chasm for the first time.

"You should smile more often," her mother told him. "A smile like that, and you wonder why she fell for you. Don't hide it from her."

"I won't," Revak promised. He cleared his throat, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"So what do you think?"

"Of what?" he asked.

"Of everything."

"Everything? Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"After everything you just went through, you've no thoughts?" she questioned in disbelief.

"Hmm. Just like it's been years since you've gotten the chance to smell a flower, it's been years since I've had the time to think about nothing."

"Fair enough. But you don't want to go back, do you?"

"As much as I would love to stay, it would be wrong for me to do so. Sovngarde isn't for the living. But now that I've seen it, I can tell you death doesn't scare me. It used to," Revak explained. "But why should it? All I get for dying is an eternity in a place like this. It's more than I deserve… and you've made me think."

"I apologize," Seara's mother laughed.

He smiled at her again and stood up, reaching out to help her do the same.

"The longer I stay, the harder parting will be," he said. "I have to go. I've got a beautiful wife to return home to."

"I won't say goodbye to you," she stated. "I'll see you again someday. I long for the day I can be here with my own husband, my daughter, and you. I miss them terribly, but it's a different kind of longing. Heartache isn't something my soul is familiar with any longer. Tell Seara that, please. Make sure she knows."

"I can do that," Revak said. She held him in a tight embrace, and when she let go, he continued. "I'll see you when Sovngarde welcomes me again."

She gave a small wave, and he turned his back to her, sorry to leave her but satisfied in knowing she was the happiest she'd ever been. He picked up the weapons he'd dropped, hating the feel of the cold, cruel metal, and silently nodded at Tsun, who sent him to his knees, where he lost consciousness and began his journey home.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

**A/N: I am so sorry for the long pause I've taken in writing! I've been extremely busy, as well as extremely drained from writing that last chapter. I'm not giving up on the story, I just needed a bit of a break, I suppose. Again, my apologies!**

The more Seara thought about it, the more she realized she had yet to come across a single soul in Windhelm who looked happy to be where they were. As she made her way across town with Til at her side, they passed a petite brunette woman holding a basket of flowers; despite the cheer the flowers ought to bring to such a cold place, her eyes were filled with nothing but a deep ache Seara could only describe as the kind someone would wear when remembering a loss. In Whiterun, the townspeople were genuinely concerned when she had worn that very same expression; here, however, no one seemed to even give the girl a second thought. Determined to introduce at least an ounce of friendliness, Seara approached her.

"Is everything alright?" she asked quietly. As the snowflakes fell softly into the young woman's basket, she instinctively pulled away, obviously not used to being approached. She drew an off-white piece of cloth over her flowers, and stared at Seara before nodding her head slightly. Unblinking and trembling, she turned to walk away in the direction of Candlehearth Hall.

"What's her problem?" Til questioned, sounding slightly offended. "She's more scared of strangers than twenty-year-old you."

"And because of that, I know how she feels," Seara said, a bit harsh. "She's not okay. If I see her again, I'm going to find out why."

"You can investigate other people's problems later." Til walked a little farther along the path before stopping again. "We've got a town to become familiar with, right?"

Seara nodded slightly, following her.

They made their way around the town in the ice and snow, occasionally losing their footing and receiving strange looks from passers-by. The embarrassment that came with being immediately recognized as new hadn't yet worn off, and the day was young. Neither of them was looking forward to staying in the inn, and it wasn't long before Seara realized she was going to need another job. The thought came and went, and she focused instead on how cold her legs were. Once they'd made their way around the perimeter of town, Til stopped to examine a somewhat rickety looking building just past the Gray-Quarter.

"Calixto's, eh?" she mused. "'House of Curiosities.' It sounds so idiotic."

"I don't think so," Seara said. "Curiosities. Things most people will never see in a lifetime! I haven't even seen things most people _have _seen. It might be interesting, don't you think?"

"You're not honestly saying you want to go inside, are you?"

"Maybe I am."

"I'm sure you have to pay a small fortune to see these 'curiosities,' Sea."

"Well there's no harm in finding out, is there?" Seara bypassed her and headed for the door. "New experiences. That's what this is really all about, isn't it?"

Giving a slight knock, she opened the door and stepped inside. The walls were lined with bookshelves and desks, all holding something ancient and historical; things she might have heard about in stories, but never dreamed of seeing. Til looked around nervously, her expression uneasy.

"I don't want to be in here, Seara. This place is making me feel strange." she shuffled her feet. "Remember what Revak said? My senses…"

"Then leave," Seara told her without taking her eyes off the shelves. The mention of Revak's name made her feel empty; he wasn't there, and she could only hope he would come back. "I'll be fine. It's just a museum."

"Alright," Til huffed. "I'll be outside." The door opened and closed behind her.

"You're here to see the curiosities I've collected, I'm sure," came a voice from across the house. Seara looked around for the man but saw no one until he emerged from a doorway near the stairs. His skin was dark and his hair was white, and he looked tired. Maybe, she thought, the museum was his only income. She nodded at him, and he smiled. "I found these over years of traveling. I'd been all over Tamriel with my sister, and it was our desire to see the strange things that existed… until she passed, that is."

"Oh," Seara said, frowning. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no. Don't apologize, dear." Calixto approached one of the nearby shelves, examining a troll skull and tracing a finger along one of the hollow openings. "We always knew we wanted to open a museum, if only to relay our tales to those around us who weren't fortunate enough to experience them themselves. It's what she would've wanted, so here I am. Sometimes I wish there was a way she could see everything I've done…" he paused, turning to look at her. "But the idea is silly. Let me show you what you came to see."

"Is there a cost?" Seara asked.

"Normally. But for you, I'll make an exception."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm positive."

He smiled at her again, almost forcefully. Grabbing her hand, he led her over to the shelf with the troll skull, where several odd shaped knives sat next to it.

"These," he said as she pulled her hand away nervously, "are the embalming tools the ancient Nords used to prepare their dead. Today, those particularly fond of the Restoration School will study these tools to get an idea of how rituals and burials used to work, when healing magic didn't. Interesting, wouldn't you agree?"

"It is," Seara told him, not knowing what else to say. In truth, it was quite interesting, but she was beginning to feel that Til had been right, and something about Calixto was odd. The way he looked at her was unsettling.

"Let me show you my books." He walked off to another bookshelf and began explaining the works he owned, but Seara found herself tuning him out and letting her mind wander. As she scanned the books herself, one of them caught her eye that he hadn't yet explained.

"What's this one?" she asked, pointing to it. It said nothing on the binding, and the thick backing seemed like it was about to fall off.

"That," Calixto said, coming closer, "Is the Book of Fate. Go ahead! Open it."

Seara carefully lifted the book off the shelf and opened it, turning the pages, confused.

"It's blank," she told him. "It doesn't say anything."

"Are you certain?" he inched his way closer.

"I… yes."

"The Book of Fate says something different for every reader. Legend holds that a blank book means one of two things… the first being that the fate of the reader is entirely up to them. A blank book is quite rare, my dear."

"I'm not quite sure I believe in your 'Book of Fate.'" Seara set the book down. "How do I know it isn't just a blank book?"

"It says all sorts of things about me," Calixto told her, still moving closer. "But of course, the second meaning is always a possibility. A blank book could also point toward, sadly, an imminent death." He placed his hand on the small of her back, and she could feel him breathing down her neck. She squinted, feeling sickened by his closeness.

"Alright," she said, moving a few steps away from him. "I suppose that _is_ always a possibility." She knocked over a few of the books behind her, and began to feel her heart race. "Thank you for sharing your stories with me… but I have to go."

"You can't leave yet," he frowned. "We're only halfway through."

"My apologies," she insisted, "but I really have to leave. Maybe… Maybe another time."

Just as she was about to turn and head for the door, someone knocked. Without waiting for a reply, they opened the door and stuck a foot in, using their shoulder to push it the rest of the way. It was a young male Dunmer, with his arms full of freshly killed game. He balanced the kills in his arms as he pushed the door shut with a booted foot, and gave a sniffle as he adjusted to the warmth of the room. His skin was a medium gray, and he wore a green shirt with a pair of black pants and work boots. His hair was black as ink, matching his eyes, and his expression was stern. The blood of the animals spattered his arms, and he glanced at Seara before looking back at Calixto.

"Raeryn," Calixto acknowledged.

"I have your game," Raeryn said pointedly, dumping the bodies onto the floor carelessly. "I'm assuming you have my pay?"

"Right, of course…" Calixto dug around among the clutter for a few seconds before producing several gold pieces and striding across the room to hand them over.

"Have a good time preparing them," Raeryn said sarcastically, turning to leave.

"Wait!" Seara exclaimed. "I was just leaving, too." She ran to the door and he opened it, waiting for her to exit.

"After you," he said, sounding bored. He followed her outside, where he knelt down in the snow to wash the gold pieces he'd received. He used some of the snow to clean his arms and boots before looking up at Seara and Til, obviously wondering why they were watching him.

"Th—thank you," Seara stammered. "He was starting to scare me. I, um… I owe you. Raeryn, was it?"

"You owe me? I think you mean it's the other way around."

"Why would _you_ owe _me_?"

Raeryn raised his eyebrows at her and stood up, and she noticed an intricate black painted pattern of leaves on the side of his face, extending from his right ear to the corner of his eye.

"I always owe a Nord. That's just the way things work around here, isn't it?" He turned from her, adjusted the hunting bow on his back, and started to walk away.

"I don't think that," Seara called out after him. He stopped and turned to look at her again.

"Right," he said. "In twenty years of life, I've never met a Nord who thought I was worth speaking to. You want to change that, change your people. This has nothing to do with a war, nothing to do with fear. It's just the way things are. I've learned to accept it. You don't have to do any 'convincing.' If I could go back home like I'm told to do every day, I would."

"You're just bitter," Til told him.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I'm serious," Seara pushed. "I have things to learn from you. You hunt, right? Teach me to set traps."

"Traps?" he laughed. "I haven't set a trap in years."

"I can teach you, Sea," Til whispered. "Just leave him alone."

"Oh no, I'll help, if that's what you want. I'm sure you could learn a thing or two as well," he mocked, glancing at Til. "Nords weren't built to be archers or assassins. You make too much noise. You always feel the need to make sure everyone knows where and who you are. Arrogant s'wits."

"Excuse me?" Til said, letting her jaw drop.

"I'm only teasing you. Mostly." He began walking toward the city gates, motioning for them to follow. "If you were like the others, you'd have made fun of me, thrown something at me, or left at least three minutes ago."

"Is it really that bad here?" Seara questioned.

"Yes, it _really _is." He smiled politely, but was pushed forcefully to the side as a group of Stormcloak soldiers charged toward the gates in full armor, weapons drawn. "You see? Things like that."

The three of them watched as more and more soldiers made their way out of the city, yelling commands at one another. Seara looked at Til in a nervous way, frowning at the smell of smoke that was filling the air.

"That wasn't normal—" Til began.

"It was, actually." Raeryn countered.

"No. Something's wrong."

They creeped closer to the gates, where Seara poked her head around the stone wall and gazed at the horizon. Fires were burning in the distance, and the cries of men in battle were carried toward them on the wind.

"The Imperial Army," she said, her voice shaking. "It's started. It's happening again."

Raeryn turned on his heel and ran in the other direction, stammering about a family, and Til looked at Seara, wide-eyed.

"Til, this is how my mother died. I didn't think I would… this is…"

A Stormcloak soldier yelled at them to get out of the way, but stopped briefly to warn them of the danger.

"Get back," he commanded. "Into your houses, the inn, anywhere but here. They're marching on us."

"No," Seara told him.

"If you don't get out of our way voluntarily, I'll have you escorted. All families and single citizens are to be in their homes unless they're fighting for our cause. Now move."

Til began to ready her bow, but Seara didn't move. The soldier made a grab for her arm, and she yanked it away. A second soldier joined him and they worked together to hold her still and began to move her, but she kicked and struggled until she was breathless.

"Stop!" she screamed. "_Stop! _I… I want to help. I can help."

The two men stared at her.

"Seara," Til said softly. "Don't. Just get somewhere—"

"No," Seara argued. The men released her, and she let her hands begin to glow a soft gold. "Bring them to me. The injured. I can help."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Seara looked around, panicking and wondering what she may have just agreed to do. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her shaking hands and made direct eye contact with the soldier to her right.

"I'll station myself in Candlehearth Hall. It's close to the main gate, and it's centrally located. Relay to the others that any injured should report or be escorted there. I'm ready."

The soldiers nodded and ran off in the direction of the smoke, leaving Til to watch Seara carefully.

"Please, Seara," she said. "I'm glad you're helping. I want to see you grow. But don't put yourself in danger over this." A fat snowflake landed on her cheek, and she ignored it. "Your mother was a brave woman, but she wasn't my best friend. Don't take the same risks."

Seara watched her friend courageously set foot outside the gates and head into the danger beyond them, not looking for a chance to shine, but sincerely wishing to fight, and if necessary, die for her land. Her heart swelled; it was time for her, in her own way, to be just as brave as Til.

Her first patient stumbled through the gates, clutching his side and hardly able to keep himself upright. She ran over to him and put one of his arms around her shoulders, supporting his weight and helping him up the steps to the inn. They walked slowly over to the first ground level bedroom, where she carefully laid him down and began to examine his injuries. He'd taken a hit to the side with some sort of sharp edge, but the impact had also been a straight, forceful blow. It wasn't severe enough to have been a battle-axe, but a war-axe was probable. Placing her hands over the wound, she applied pressure and sent her healing spell through him, watching the color return to his face.

"I…" he started. She shushed him, not wanting to cause any more stress than he was already experiencing. She ran out to the bar to find Elda sitting behind it with her back to the shelves, holding her knees to her chest.

"Is it bad out there? What do you know?"

"Nothing," Seara answered truthfully. "I only saw the soldiers leaving and told them I could help with the injured. We'll get more information soon."

"I thought this damned war was over with," Elda said. Her cheeks were flushed and her face simmered with rage. "I nearly lost my inn last time, and here we are again. I can't bear the thought of it."

"Just keep a level head," Seara told her. "The city has made it through once. I'm sure you could do it again if you had to."

Before Elda had time to say anything in response, another man walked through the door, supporting two others. His long blonde hair was matted with sweat and blood, and his lip was bleeding, but he smiled through it as Seara took one of the men from him and escorted him to the room to lay him down. The blonde man followed after her and did the same, watching as she removed their helmets and examined them; one had suffered a blow to the head, while the other had been run through the shoulder with a sword. She worked as fast as she could to get the wounds closed and bandaged, and several more men and women stumbled through the door and into the room as she worked, all the while the blonde soldier watching her.

"Do you need any help?" she asked him, wetting a rag in a bucket of cool water.

"No," he replied. "I just wanted to make sure they got back safely."

"So you're well enough to give details?"

"Ah," he said knowingly. "The battle is almost over."

"What?"

"It was just a scare, lass. A group of Imperial soldiers were feeling brave today, and started a skirmish with a few of our men. They had no backup. It was foolish of them to challenge any of our soldiers at all. Of course, it was better for us to over-prepare than to not have prepared at all. That's not to say we shouldn't worry. The threat of a full-scale attack grows, but not this day."

Seara nodded, feeling relieved. A total of nearly twenty injured soldiers had found her within the last few minutes, and although she was stressed, she knew it could have been much worse. When she finally got to settle down, she sat down on the floor and leaned her back against the only bed in the room, sighing. She closed her eyes for a moment, realizing just how tired she really was. She hadn't slept since before her trip, and with everything coming to a halt, the thought of sleep was overtaking her mind. Forcing herself to keep her eyes open, she noticed the blonde man again, eyeing the ring on her finger.

"You're the one, eh?" he asked.

"Sorry?"

"Word spreads fast around here. You're the woman who claims she married Stormblade."

_Claims. _It was as if no one believed her. She couldn't wait for Revak to come home.

"That's me," she said, slightly annoyed. "If you don't believe me, he—"

"I believe you," he interrupted. "I met Stormblade several years ago in my hometown, Riverwood. He was just adventuring, like most of us do, looking for something worthwhile so he could say his life was worth it. He was a pretty odd fellow at the time, not wanting to tell anyone his name. I figured maybe he was in trouble with the law a bit, understandably. But it wasn't my place to ask. I told him about our cause, and he eventually joined up. When he found out he was the Dragonborn, he kept his stance on being nameless, and I've always respected that. We were always placed in the same camps, assigned to the same missions. He was promoted time after time and I can't say I never felt jealous, but I was always happy for him. If I ever had a best friend, it was Stormblade. I was sad to see him go. I learned that even being nameless, he was a man to keep his word. Any woman he married must be the same, as I see it. I'm Ralof. It really is good to meet you."

Seara blinked a few times, taking in all he'd said. Revak had never really talked much about friends, but then again, she'd never thought to ask, and best of all, he believed her.

"Seara," she said. "My name is Seara."

"You're special, you know," Ralof assured her. "You look under confident, but the way you've healed our men is truly an incredible thing. You should think about joining our ranks." Seara's eyes widened, and he corrected himself. "I mean as a healer. You should think about it. War isn't without heartache, but you could save us a lot of it."

He silently turned and left, removing his helmet as he went. Sometime after he'd gone, Seara found herself waking up on the floor against the wall, not realizing she'd ever fallen asleep. Til sat next to her, still holding her bow, her head nodded to the side in a light slumber. She appeared to be unharmed save for a few minor cuts and bruises, and Seara decided to leave her be for the time being. She stepped outside into the cool, snowy air, taking in the fading sunlight. It still wasn't an appropriate time to call it a night, so she decided to survey the damage from the city gates. A few guards stood around talking about the quick battle, and there was a small amount of smoke in the distance, but nothing major. The wind was harsh and cold, and she shivered before she heard the voices it carried.

"I want you _out _of my city, that's what I want! You damned grey-skins all think alike, that we're here to provide for you, and you can do whatever you please—"

"My family owns a shop, you snowbacked s'wit! We do more work in a day than you do in a week!" It was Raeryn, sounding frustrated. She walked toward the voices and peeked around a stone corner, watching the elf throw his words at a brutal looking soldier. "What do you do, sit around and wait on the off-chance someone shoots an arrow at your impenetrable door? You're paid for _nothing, _and you want _me_ to leave? I hunt and provide food for the citizens here who trust me!"

"I saw you out there today with that bow you carry around! Helping the Imperials, are you?"

"Did you see me kill a single one of your men?"

"Just because you're not man enough to do it doesn't mean you wouldn't try!"

Raeryn gave the man one last look of disgust, and spit at his feet before turning to stalk off. Seara quickly followed him, throwing the soldier an annoyed glance as she passed. When she caught up, she placed a hand on Raeryn's shoulder and he shook it off.

"I trust you," she said breathlessly. "Remember?"

He gave her a quick look, not showing any sign of emotion. There was a gash on the side of his face and right arm, and the blood dripped onto the white snow. It was red, just like everyone else's. The fact was simple.

"Let me heal you," she pleaded. "It's what I've done all day—"

"Well I'm glad one of us is of good use."

Seara was silent after his comment as she followed him, and when they reached the door to his home, she thought for a moment he would shut her out. He walked in, rounding the corner and leaving the door wide open behind him. She hesitated, not sure if she should enter.

"Well, are you coming in or not?" he called from somewhere out of sight. Seara stepped over the threshold, looking around and feeling slightly awkward. There was a counter set up as she walked in, but no one stood behind it.

"My brother Sadri runs the shop during the day. He's probably up at the Cornerclub for a drink. Everyone else is upstairs. It's just my mother and sisters." He grabbed an apple off the nearby table, taking a bite. "They don't like to be down here when the Nords break in and take our things like it's their right."

Out of the corner of her eye, Seara caught sight of a small Dunmer child in a tattered dress peering at her cautiously from the stairs.

"I would never—"

"Not you. You couldn't do it if you tried."

Without words, Seara approached him and began to heal his wounds. As soon as they'd closed up, he stared at her for a moment before handing her a piece of bread.

"It might be a bit stale, because we usually sell all our bread in the morning. It's left over, but you—"

Seara was paying him no attention, taking and eating the bread as fast as she could. She'd had nothing to eat in quite some time, and her stomach didn't seem to care what was put in it.

"—look like you could waste away." Raeryn sighed, taking another bite of his apple. "Thanks for the help. So you're new around here, right?"

She nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed by her full mouth but not enough to care. He continued, sounding cynical.

"I would say to take my advice and get out as fast as you can… but I would know, sometimes that isn't possible."

"I don't want to leave," Seara told him, finishing off the bread. He tossed her his second apple, and she turned it over it her hands. "My husband was born here."

"Pity." Raeryn looked out the drafty window near the table. It had been mostly boarded up, aside from a few inches of glass. "I was born in Morrowind. City of Suran. I can remember the warm, breezy air coming off Lake Masobi while I fished in the mornings, sometimes the afternoons. I can't imagine why anyone would want to live in a place like Windhelm. I suppose I was young in those memories, though. Around thirty-six. I was about forty when Red Mountain destroyed our homeland and forced us to _this_ gods-forsaken place."

"Wait. You were alive for that? How old are you?"

"That's not exactly the most tactful way to ask someone their age, you know."

"What you just told me," Seara ventured, "would put you at around two-hundred and forty years old."

"That _would_ be a bit much for you, wouldn't it?"

"You look younger than I do! Twenty-one at most!"

"Gods, woman, when I was twenty-one I was still a child! My sisters are that age."

Seara thought back to the child she'd seen on the stairs, trying to fathom what he'd told her.

"I've got a while to go, yet. The Dunmer don't live nearly as long as the Altmer, but Divayth Fyr was a Dunmer and he lived to a ripe old age. I think everyone stopped counting after a while, but he just passed a few years back and was known to be at least four-thousand."

"_Divayth Fyr?"_ Seara leaned forward, wide eyed. "The only one to ever cure Corprus disease? I've studied him for years!"

"Every culture has its fine points," Raeryn said. "Even the Nords, I suppose, with their Dragonborn leaders. It's all fairly fascinating."

"My husband is the Dragonborn," Seara told him quietly. "He was a soldier here in the army as well."

"Well I might have said he sounded like a great man. Unfortunately, these Stormcloak soldiers are nasty."

"Not him," Seara defended. "And I thought…" She trailed off, unsure.

"What?"

"You fought for them earlier. The Stormcloaks. You helped them."

Raeryn's eyes narrowed, and he looked slightly offended.

"Are you mad?" he asked, raising his voice slightly. "You saw how they treat me, and I told you how they treat my family and our friends. You see where we live. Your '_true High King_' is a monster. He pays us no attention other than to belittle us. Why would I fight alongside an army that spits in my face? No. I don't fight on a side, and I never will. I go out into battle when I have to, because I have a family to protect. If I lived in Solitude and these Stormcloaks were knocking down my door, I'd put an arrow through their eyes just as fast."

There was silence between them for several minutes.

"I respect you for that, you know," Seara said. "It's a brave thing to fight for and defend your family. I don't even have a family here. Ma died in the Battle for Whiterun, and I left my Da behind when I came here. I've no siblings, and my husband is gone. Actually, I have nothing here. Come to think of it, I haven't even got a change of clothes."

Raeryn stood up and walked across the room, opening a nearby wardrobe and motioning to it. "We sell all sorts of things in your size, if you really need something. Find a few things and take them. I'll blame it on the break-ins, and you can pay me back later."

"What? Are you sure?" Seara asked, surprised at his helpfulness. She peeked at a few of the dresses she saw, and although she didn't like them much, she knew she could always alter them, and in a time of need, she was thankful for them nonetheless. She grabbed a couple and looked back at Raeryn, who stood with his arms crossed and motioned toward the door with his head.

"I'm not sure at all, so you'd better take them and get, before I decide I want to keep them."

Seara laughed and headed out into the evening snow with the four dresses she'd picked, and he followed her out, shutting the door behind him.

"I'll follow you back," he said. "There have been murders."

The walk back to the inn was wordless, but Seara was thankful for Raeryn's company. He left her at the door and said goodnight, not wanting to cause a scene by entering the building. Inside, it was warm, and she wished he could've come with her and had some decent food. Til was waiting for her with a smile, and several soldiers sat around having drinks and telling jokes about the Imperials they'd taken out. Though the commotion seemed unlikely to wear off anytime soon, all Seara wanted was to go to bed. After congratulating Til on her victory and hearing from Elda that the injured men and women were doing well, she trudged to her designated room and fell into bed, ready for a full night's sleep.

A full night's sleep, it appeared, was hardly what she would get. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, she awoke with a start to the sound of thundering cheers and applause, foot-stomping and whistling, yells and laughter. As she slowly forced herself to get back out of bed, she thought briefly that she might be a bit irritable and ask everyone to quiet down. Wearing the undershirt and plain brown pants that had been provided for her with her room, she made her way, bleary-eyed, to the bar.

"What's going—" she started. She was interrupted by a deafening silence, and noticed that all the occupants of the room were watching her. Til approached quietly, grinning. "Is there something on me?"

Without a word, her friend turned her in the direction of the door, where a weary warrior stood with his bow at his side, a dirty face and hands, smeared crimson war-paint, and a head of wild shoulder-length dark red hair.

"I hear you're healing the wounded."

Seara immediately stumbled forward, knocking over an unoccupied stool and nearly tripping over a fallen broom in her hurry to reach him as soon as possible. She ran into him with a tight embrace that nearly sent him backward into the door, and kissed him without caring if anyone saw. She had everything and nothing to say to him, rendering her unable to speak.

"I did it, _okaaz miin,_" Revak said. His voice was gravelly. "It's done. Everything is done."

All at once, the room erupted with questions and yells again, surprising Seara, who had forgotten where she was.

"Give me a minute to put my things down in your room, and I'll be right back." He squeezed her hand and let go. "I have stories to tell you I never imagined I'd get the chance to tell."

She unwillingly watched him walk through the crowd of people and down the hall, disappearing into her room. Turning back around to face the door, she looked at the muddy melting snow his boots had tracked in, loving it in that moment almost as much as she loved him. Part of her wanted to run outside and follow his footprints until they disappeared, just because they brought him home. After a few minutes of standing in awe of the tiny details that accompanied him, she was unable to stand waiting any longer and ran to her room, wanting nothing more than to touch him again and make sure she wasn't dreaming.

"Revak," she said quietly, making sure no one heard her as she pushed open the door.

"Hmm," came his voice in response, lazy and slightly muffled.

Peering around the door, she caught sight of him lying face down, sprawled out on the bed in a dead sleep. His armor was still on and his weapons were on the floor as if he'd dropped them there, content to leave them be for days. He certainly wasn't going to be right back, but she couldn't say she blamed him.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

**A/N: Hey all! Still updating, here. Many of you know that next month starts school again… so I've been pretty busy preparing for that. Once the end of August rolls around, I'll be taking classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with homework in between. As much as I hate to say it, homework will have to come before Dragonsong (which still has a good while left to go!). Or at least, I have to pretend homework will come first. We all know how that goes. Thanks for all your reviews and follows! Love you all!**

The air was bitterly cold, even indoors. The snow, persistently falling at every chance it could, resulted in the city smelling like burning firewood as everyone tried to keep their family warm. The rest of Skyrim seemed to have nothing positive to say about Windhelm, save for the Nords who lived there, but at the moment, it felt like a safe haven. Something about the city just felt right—like home. Seara thought back to the morning as she sat at the bar and looked down at the withering purple mountain flower in her hands. It was her favorite. When Revak had given it to her, still bleary eyed from sleep, indents from the blankets spread across the side of his face and quite possibly looking the least romantic a man could, she couldn't have been more content.

He'd told her he brought it back for her. She was a bit skeptical at first, knowing where he'd been. Was it actually possible for someone to bring back something physical from a place inhabited by the dead? She watched him exchange words with Ralof, thinking back on what he'd told her.

"It's from Sovngarde," he'd said, handing it over. She took it by the stem, rolling it gently between her fingers and feeling a sense of wonder as she did so.

"It's so… real." The flower drooped as she held it up. A mountain flower, picked and carried through the Land of the Honored Dead, dying in her hands in the land of the living.

"Everything there was real, _okaaz miin. _I was tested, hurt, and helped. I could feel everything as if I was still alive, because I was… but they felt everything, too."

"They?" Seara asked.

"The dead. I don't even want to call them that. It's troublesome. They weren't dead. They were just elsewhere." Revak thought for a moment, trying to recall the events of his journey. "I remember the mist. _Ful ahzid krah. _Bitter cold and filled with wandering men and women. They haunted me."

"Did you see anyone you knew? Any old friends?"

"I couldn't say I saw _aan fahdon, _but I made them." He looked at her hesitantly, unsure of how to continue. "I wasn't the one who picked that flower. It was given to me to pass on to you; I just carried it in my pocket and kept it safe."

"Who is it from?" Seara watched him contemplate his words with wide eyes. Someone she'd once known had sent her a flower, and she could only think of one person it might have been.

"It was your mother."

She felt her eyes start to sting at his words, but she knew he was telling the truth. He wouldn't lie about something that meant so much to her, and the evidence couldn't be ignored. She'd never told him her favorite flower, let alone the color she liked. It hadn't even crossed her mind.

"She wanted me to tell you she misses you, but that her heart doesn't ache the way yours does. Sovngarde is the ultimate destination. She's reached her home, and as excited as she is to see you again one day, heartache isn't something she's familiar with any longer." He paused. "That's exactly what she told me."

"Tell me what it looked like. I want to know what she sees."

"It was beautiful after the mist cleared. I remember the sky being…" he stopped, looking puzzled. "It was… _nid. Zu nis…_ I can't remember."

"What?"

"I… I can't remember what it looked like."

"Revak."

"Honestly, Seara," he defended. "It's similar to when you'd have a dream, and the more you try to cling to it, the quicker it slips away. I remember the faces of the people I came in contact with… but I can't remember the place itself."

And so Seara resigned herself to the fact that she'd get any insight into what her mother's life was like as she pondered it. She could understand why Revak would be unable to remember certain details of his journey. With Sovngarde being the holy place it was, mystery had always shrouded the legend. Everyone had their own idea of what it was like, but no two people ever agreed on the same picture. Maybe, she thought, sitting at the bar, it was because none of them were supposed to know.

* * *

><p>"Bah. Stop worrying about it," Ralof said reassuringly after Revak had finished explaining his predicament. "I'm sure everyone will understand. I've always believed Sovngarde was a secret anyway. I don't need to know what it looks like. All we need to know right now, my friend, is that we've won the war, you've cleansed the land, and one day, we'll drink together in Shor's Hall for all eternity!" He passed Revak a bottle of mead, and he accepted it graciously.<p>

The people in the inn were all lively as could be, or at least most of them, and all of them wanted to know if his story was true. He was troubled about his inability to remember the place he'd longed to talk about, despite being able to hide it. After taking a swig of his mead, he turned to Ralof again.

"So the Imperials have been knocking at our doors, I hear."

"Unfortunately. But let them come! We have plenty of mead to lift our spirits! Not to mention Seara, there. Did you know she was such a talented healer? Saved quite of few of our soldiers, that one did."

"I knew," Revak said, remembering his own scars as he watched Seara talk to another woman at the bar. "I've been waiting for her to prove it to herself."

"Well I don't know if she's proven it to herself, but she's certainly proven it to us, aye lass?"

Seara looked up and smiled slightly, unsure of what she was being asked.

"You know what you did?" Ralof asked her. "You saved us from having to hear that gods-forsaken bell."

Revak felt an odd sort of emotion at his words. A mixture of heavy sadness weighing at his heart, and an unspoken anger burning in his chest. The bell. It sat upon a tower overlooking the graveyard, built atop the Hall of the Dead and mocking every soldier or family member of the deceased who heard it. It was a low, haunting sound, and even after just one ring, it was unforgettable.

"The bell? What bell?" Seara questioned. Unexpectedly, the young woman next to her spoke up in answer.

"The bell is a terrible, echoing sound sent out for the whole city to hear, meant to honor the dead with its noise." She sounded disgusted, spitting the words out as they came to her. Her nose was wrinkled and she looked like she might be sick. "Every time I hear that bell, I want to scream."

"A chime throughout the city to respect the fallen? It doesn't sound so bad to me," Seara said.

"Respect…" the woman spat. "It offers no such thing. Maybe to the others, naïve enough to shed a tear for the loss of those they never knew. But not for us. Not for the ones who _know._ The soldiers, who've lost their best friends to the war. They know. Or… or me. Or my mother or father, when we found out my sister had been murdered without reason. All we wanted to do was pay our respects to Friga and share our memories and then… that _awful_ bell."

The woman's eyes began to water, and she lifted a hand to her mouth before politely excusing herself.

"Nilsine!" Seara called after her. Nilsine stopped to look at her, hiding her face from the rest of them, looking somewhat ashamed. "You can talk to me any time you need to. I know it's difficult, but… it might help." Nilsine nodded slightly and proceeded to leave as quickly as she could, stumbling a bit over her own feet on the way.

"So _that_ was her problem," said Til through a mouthful of apple, pulling out a chair and plopping her bag onto the table between Revak and Ralof.

"Til…" Seara reprimanded, moving closer.

"What? I'm just saying, if you have a problem, you should talk to someone about it."

"Maybe you should take your own advice, _grohiik." _Revak said.

"Whatever. So tell me about Sovngarde. I'm guessing I'm the last person to hear."

Her hair was messy and she seemed tired, but Revak knew she probably hadn't been able to sleep. She looked at him impatiently.

"Hello? I need to head out and train today, you know, just in case I need to help again. So it would be best if you could share the story sooner rather than later."

"Why are you acting like this, _mal gein?Aam?"_

"Like what? Just tell me some stories."

"Alright. If you want your story so badly, here it is. I don't remember."

"You… what? No. Tell me." She was smiling, looking like she didn't believe him.

"I'm serious."

Til leaned over the table and looked at him, frustrated.

"Can I talk to you alone, please?" she asked.

The two of them walked away from the table, Til moving the fastest. Once they reached the first room available to their right, she stormed in and waited for him to clear the doorway before slamming the door behind him. She looked angry and ready to yell, but Revak cut her off.

"You're acting ridiculous. You've accomplished being disrespectful and rude, both in the same short sitting. What's this about, Til? Do you think the soldiers will respect you if you act like this? Sure, some of them do, but not all of them, and I wouldn't want you to end up that way anyway."

"You think I'm trying to impress a bunch of men I don't know?"

"I do. I think you're frightened they won't accept you the way you are."

"Because of _what_ I am. You can say it," she said, folding her arms. "But for your information, that isn't it. Let me enlighten you. Firstly, I will only allow myself to join an army under circumstances I've created myself. I want to be recognized as a fighter, a hero or a savior. I won't mock and hassle my way in. Secondly, the reason I'm so adamant about you telling me your experiences in Sovngarde is because... please. Just tell me."

"I'm telling you the truth. Alduin has been defeated, _mal kendov._ But I don't have any memory of the way Sovngarde looked after the evil left it."

"Liar."

"Do you think I would want things to be this way? Don't you think I would cherish those memories? I met Seara's mother in there, Til. All I wanted to do was tell her about the afterlife her mother's soul lives in, but I can't, because _I don't remember. _Those memories have been taken from me—"

"I'll just ask Seara, because I know you told her. She might be the only one, but I deserve to know."

"She has nothing to tell you. There hasn't been any knowledge shared!"

"You would do this to me?" Her hair fell into her eyes, and she started to cry. The tears were angry rather than sad, and she spoke with hatred in her voice. "You're so good and brave, Revak. But you have to make a story out of all your adventures. This one, you 'don't remember' because… what? The gods took the memories away from you? You're being selfish. The reason I want to know… no. The reason I _need_ to know what you saw in Sovngarde isn't because I want to hear about your adventures. It's because I'll never know. I'm a beast, Revak. I'm filthy. I don't get _welcomed_ into places like Shor's Hall."

"Til…"

She stomped her foot and put a finger in his face.

"Tell me. It's the only way I'll ever experience what you've seen."

"I have nothing to say."

"Then neither do I… except for this. The reason you see me acting differently is because of what I am. It's because I've strayed too far from the hunt. And right now, the only thing I want to rip to pieces is you."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

**A/N: This is where things start getting interesting. **

"Alright. On the count of three, we'll both push. Are you ready? One, two—Seara?"

Seara held up a hand as she leaned against the bed post, coughing and laughing at the same time.

Ulfric had made sure his steward delivered all the furnishings for their home in a timely manner; however, things weren't completely clean or organized the way Seara would've liked them to be. A week had passed since Revak returned, and most of it had been spent cleaning. She hadn't complained—at least the house was theirs. Even if it was still slightly dusty, it was a beautiful home; spacious, with wood floors and walls, a few charming chandeliers, and all the storage they could ever need. According to Jorleif, even though he hadn't had time to get all the cleaning done, "major improvements" had been made.

"Surely a bit of dust isn't going to knock you off your feet, love," Revak teased. "We'll have to visit a crypt sometime."

"I'd rather stay above ground, if you don't mind," Seara laughed. "I'm not sure I want to visit the dead."

"Better than the dead visiting you," he replied, winking.

"That's for sure." She picked up a broom, using it to playfully kick some dust up around Revak's feet. "But you're used to it."

"I wish I wasn't, but that's why I'm home. Among other reasons."

He leaned over and kissed her, and she found herself wishing he wouldn't leave again, but she knew a man like Revak couldn't be kept from adventure. Eventually he would want to leave again, stand on the ledge overlooking the waterfall again, and feel the thrill of wandering again. But he would always come back. She knew something about him that she'd never been certain of with anyone else—his heart was with her, and to her he'd always be drawn.

"I'm sick of moving things around," she confessed after a heavy sigh.

"I thought you'd never say it!"

They sat down on the oddly placed bed and Revak lay back, looking up at the ceiling.

"We missed a few," he commented, staring at some cobwebs in the corner, hanging from a wooden beam. Seara stared at them as well, wishing she had the energy to care more. After a few moments in silence, she grabbed his hand and asked him a question.

"How long do you think Til will stay angry with you?"

"Who knows? She needs her space. She'll come around eventually. There was nothing I could've done. I told her the truth, and someday, hopefully soon, she'll realize it. But I understand why she's angry. She's never wanted to know about anything more in her entire life, and she _nis mindok. _She can't know." He paused. "I wish there was a way to help her, but I know as much as she does, for a reason only the gods understand."

"Will… will she really never be accepted into Sovngarde?"

"I don't know, _okaaz miin. _I don't have the beast-blood in me. Those who do, say Hircine claims them at the _tiid se dinok,_ but it's only a belief. Some hope for it, but Til isn't one of them. Her fate worries her, and because it troubles her, it troubles me."

"Me too," said Seara quietly. "I told her she was welcome to stay here with us, but she didn't want anything to do with that. Actually, she told me she'd rather sleep in the snow than in the same house as you."

"Like I said," Revak continued, standing up and ignoring the last part of Seara's statement. "She'll come around. The most we can do is support her."

Unable to think of anything else to say, Seara simply nodded. She hoped with all her heart that one day Shor would see what a beautiful person Til was, and silently prayed that he would take her in. If she could see how much Til deserved the afterlife she wanted, why shouldn't the gods see it?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door from downstairs, and she leapt to answer it with Revak close behind. The thought of having actual company in her very own house excited her, even if it was still slightly dusty. Upon answering the door she stood face-to-face with Ralof, who removed his scaled helmet in her presence.

"Evening, lass," he said. "Is Stormblade about? I was hoping I might be able to occupy your time for a short while."

"Of course… sorry about the mess. We're still settling in."

Ralof sat down at the long dining table in the middle of the room, chuckling slightly.

"This is luxury, lass. Maybe the 'old man' can tell you about the conditions we lived in."

"Old man, eh?" Revak asked, sliding a bottle of mead over to his friend. "We _are _the same age, you know."

"Oh I know, but you're married. It makes all the difference, friend."

"Does it?" Revak sat down across from him, feigning interest in the accusation with a smile.

"It most certainly does. I hope this doesn't mean you're done fighting for your homeland."

"Of course it doesn't. I fight for Skyrim in all I do."

Ralof stared at him, implying that there was a deeper meaning to his words other than merely continuing to adventure.

"You know what I mean. Don't you remember? The battles, the fights for freedom, all the mead we could drink, and aside from the occasional rough patch, we had it good! The stories 'round the campfire, the pranks we would play… look. I haven't been sent on a real mission in longer than I care to admit, and I long to take the fight to the Imperials. They're basically taunting us, and I'm just itching for a battle. I want to remind them who won the Battle for Solitude." Ralof leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly as he took another drink and reminisced about times passed.

"The war is over, Ralof," Revak said slowly.

"Don't kid yourself. You know damn well this war is far from over."

There was a heavy silence between the three of them before Revak spoke again.

"I know."

"That's why we _need_ you Stormblade! You weren't given the title of Officer by Ulfric Stormcloak himself for nothing! I spoke with Ulfric myself. The threat is growing. We need you." Ralof looked over at Seara, who sat nervously next to him. "We need _you._"

"Me?" she exclaimed.

"You helped us. Even in a small-scale battle, you proved that you're a worthy addition to our army. You don't have to fight. Just help us. But you," he said, turning back to Revak, "you need to lead us again. You were the best leader and friend I've had. Help me fight like I used to."

"Ralof," Revak started. "You've been a good friend to me. Your loyalty can't be matched, and I'd be hard-pressed to find another soul who can drink like you can. But I'm not the person I used to be. You have to believe me. I promise I'll consider it, but right now, the army doesn't need me like you think it does."

"Alright. So you need time to think. I can respect that. Just… promise me you won't forget about it."

Revak promised, and for the next few hours, the three of them sat and talked about memories and adventures had. Seara had always loved stories, both hearing them and telling them, and she could barely get enough of the tales the two men told. They seemed to feed off each other's stories until darkness set in and the light filtering through the windows faded, when Ralof finally wished them a good night and headed back to the barracks.

After closing the door behind his friend, Revak turned to Seara with a disappointed sort of look on his face, and she reached out to him.

"What is it?"

"Words can't really express how much I'd love to fight alongside Ralof like I used to. But I can't. I won't."

"What changed?" she asked.

"I don't… can we talk about something else?"

Felling a bit saddened, Seara nodded.

"I'll talk to you about it sometime soon," Revak explained. "I just don't want discuss things tonight."

"So tell me a story then," Seara suggested.

"A story? What kind of story?"

"Anything. You can make one up if you want, and I would never know."

He smiled at her and ran a hand through her hair before grinning impishly.

"I've got one," he said, clearing his throat. "Once, there was a hero. His name was Ragnar the Red—"

"Anything but that one."

"No, listen! This one is different. _Zu vaat._ I swear."

"Fine."

"Okay. So this hero, Ragnar, was riding to Whiterun from old Rorikstead…"

"No."

"But he's about to meet Matilda!"

"Not if I can help it."

The two of them started to laugh together as Revak put out the candles scattered through the lower level of the house. It got darker as each one was extinguished, and Seara worried she might not be able to find the stairs.

"I have a real story for you this time," Revak said. "It's about Windhelm. Well, and the house."

"This house?"

"The same one."

"What is it?"

"Do you remember when Jorleif mentioned the other day that 'major improvements' had been made?" Revak asked, putting out another candle. They walked into the small room behind the stairs as he continued, extinguishing the candles on the enchanting table one by one. "It might have been an understatement. Years ago, right around this time of year, there was a killer on the loose in Windhelm. One night, he broke into this house, and killed the young woman who lived here. He proceeded to use one of the rooms as a hideout, where he'd practice his necromantic rituals on the bodies of the other women he killed."

"_What?_ Why wouldn't you tell me something like this _before_ we moved in?"

"We needed a place to stay, and I'd already bought it. Aside from that, it's all over. It was the court wizard, Wuuthferth. They call him 'The Unliving.' He was captured and put into the dungeons quite some time ago."

"But… which room did he use?"

Revak put out the last candle on the table, leaving them in complete darkness.

"This one."

He reached out and grabbed Seara's shoulder and she shrieked, running out of the room. Following her, he calmly stepped out of the doorway with a smile.

"Oh…" Seara said angrily. "Revak! _You_ are the absolute _worst!_"

He laughed a bit more in the darkness and headed up the stairs, taking her hand so she wouldn't trip. Her heart was still beating too fast, and she felt stupid for being scared at such a thing.

"Is that story really true?" she asked, sitting down on the bed again.

"Every bit of it." Revak began to put out the rest of the candles upstairs, leaving the one by the bed lit as they talked. "As for the rumors, I'm not sure. Some people like to tell their children—or their wives, for that matter—scary stories. They'll say things similar to, 'every year, during the week that marks the death of the killer's first victim, all those who've fallen to his blade come back to prowl the city through the night.' But you don't believe in things like that."

"Stop that!"

"Stop what? Oh, can you put that candle out?" Revak snickered.

"…Do I have to?"

He stared at her with his eyebrows raised.

"I was only kidding about that part," he told her. "I'm sorry if I actually scared you, _okaaz miin_. _Kulvulon, askk._"

_Goodnight, love, _she repeated in her head. He'd used the phrase nightly since they'd been brought together again, and it was one of her favorite sayings in the language of the _dov._ The idea that the dragons could have the same emotions and relationships as she did astonished her, but the more she thought about it, the less surprised she was. They were ancient beings with families and close friends, even armies they'd sworn to fight in alongside those they would sacrifice themselves for. If anything, their emotional bonds had more time to develop and become deeper than she could imagine.

"Goodnight," she replied. "_Zu askk hio." _

"You're catching on." Revak got under the covers as Seara finally put out the candle, and she curled herself up next to him. "I love you, too."

As she lay there next to him, she was unable to block out her thoughts. She wondered for what felt like hours if Til was doing alright, and where she'd decided to stay, and just before she was finally about to fall asleep, a terrifying thought crossed her mind. She ran the words through her head several times before eventually feeling the need to say them out loud.

"There have been murders."

She brought her hands up to her mouth and glanced around the room, unable to see anything but suddenly feeling very afraid. The few people she'd met since arriving in town had all warned her about the recent murders of young women.

"Revak." She nudged him, but he didn't move. Sighing, she brought herself closer to him, feeling frightened again. Had Wuunferth escaped, or was someone following in his footsteps? Who would do something so barbaric? Was the lock on their door strong enough? Was Til somewhere safe from harm? The questions were endless, and all at once, the miniscule amount of light the moon was sending through the bedroom window made every shadow look like a crouching figure.

After quite some time of staring into the darkness, Revak began to toss and turn next to her. He turned over onto his left side, then back onto his right before jolting awake and letting out a gasp and jumping as she put a hand on his arm. He got out of bed and began to pace the floor, pressing his hands into his eyes to make sure he was awake. When he'd woken up all the way he stopped moving and settled his breathing, looking out the window to be sure of where he was.

"Are you okay?" Seara asked, sitting up.

"Yeah. I… bad dream."

"About what?"

"I've been having them every night, but they usually come in flashes and they keep getting worse. This one was drawn out. It… it was like I was trapped by them."

"Who?"

"The Imperial Soldiers," he said, sounding guilty. "Those damned soldiers. When I was in Sovngarde, I saw them. Before the mist cleared. They fought valiantly, just like I have, but for a different cause. I saw all of them. Every soldier I killed, men and women. They were still… bleeding. There was even a child there, Seara. I don't know—it must have been an accident because I would never—and they're still here, _every night_ I see them. I didn't kill them out of hatred… I didn't—" As he started to talk faster, his points got mixed up and he stumbled over his words until, finally, he couldn't say anything more.

They stood in the silent darkness, neither one of them able to speak. Seara put her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder, still feeling worried but wondering if her thoughts were silly to bring up at the moment. He turned to look at her and she gave him a gentle, reassuring kiss, only to knock her head into his chin when she heard someone at the door downstairs. Instinctively, she flashed a candlelight spell in her left hand, brightly lighting the area around them.

"Gods, that's so bright…" Revak whispered, wincing.

"Shh."

A shiver went through her whole body as she stood frozen, listening for the knock to come again. When it didn't, she looked up at Revak.

"It could be Til, you know," he said, partially covering his eyes with a hand.

"You heard it too? It wasn't just me?"

"Of course it wasn't just you. Are you still scared?"

"I haven't been able to sleep."

"I'll see who's out there," he offered.

"No! Please… let's just stay up here."

"I'm not going to leave Til to freeze out on our doorstep, Seara. Who else would be knocking this late?"

"It could be anyone," Seara said, pleading. "I remembered just a while ago, while you were still asleep… that those murders you told me about are happening again."

"Seara."

"I'm serious! Everyone I've met here in town has told me about them…"

"Well, then it's a good thing I'm not a young woman. I'll answer the door, if you'll stay within at least ten feet of me with that light."

He walked out of the room and down the stairs, and Seara followed far behind him, casting just enough light for him to see where he was going. When he opened the door, there was no one there. He shrugged as he looked back at her, and she noticed something odd just beyond his feet. The snow on the stone outside the door had been cleared by what looked like someone pushing it away with their hands, and a small piece of parchment was tossed on the wet stone.

"What's that?" she questioned, steeping forward and pointing to it. He bent down and picked up the paper, and she moved closer so he could see what was on it. It was difficult to make out, because the snow had made the ink blotchy, but the few words were still readable.

_How adorable, _it read, _that you thought moving to a new city would keep you safe. See you soon._

"No…" Seara breathed.

An ear-piercing scream came from outside, and she widened her eyes, terrified. Revak slipped on a pair of boots and grabbed his bow and some spare arrows before running out the door, and Seara did the same, putting out the candlelight and glancing all around as she went. Just outside the Hall of the Dead was a young woman's body, gashed and sprawled over the icy stone. A few feet from her lay the man who had given her the tour upon her arrival. Til and Raeryn were close by, and Til turned to leave as soon as she caught sight of them, looking disgusted.

"Stay back!" yelled one of the guards at the scene. "Everything has been taken care of!"

Whispers fluttered through the quickly growing crowd about someone named "Susanna," and Seara could only assume she was the victim. She remembered her from the Inn, but had only seen her briefly.

"What happened?" Revak asked loudly, overpowering the chatter throughout the area. "These murders were supposed to be solved!"

"They are now, my friend. Turns out Wuunferth wasn't even involved. He's been rotting in the dungeons for years, as innocent as the rest of you." The guard shook his head. "It was Calixto, here." He nudged the body with a booted foot, and shrugged. "Who would've guessed?"

"Who caught him?" Revak questioned, looking skeptical.

"Him," the guard replied, motioning half-heartedly to Raeryn, who stood with his bow still drawn. "By the way, you're free to go home, elf."

Raeryn turned away, kicking up some snow as he left.

"He doesn't even get a 'thank you?'" Seara said, exasperated.

"Does it matter? We've got bigger problems to worry about. A sinister force is working its way into Windhelm, lass. See for yourself." He led the two of them into a nearby alleyway, where yet another woman's body lay crumpled in a heap. "Clever killers, those who wait until the town is distracted before they strike."

Seara carefully moved closer, feeling like she was going to be sick. The bell atop the tower rang twice, once for Susanna, and once for Nilsine Shatter-Shield, who lay in the snow and her own freshly spilled blood. An arrow stuck out of her upper back, and across her cheek, in glaring contrast with her pale, cold skin, was an inky black handprint.

Grabbing the parchment from Revak, Seara looked at it one last time before her fingers were too weak to hold onto it. It fell to the ground next to Nilsine's body, soaking up some of the blood, and she watched it turn red.

_See you soon._


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

**A/N: I wanted to formally apologize again for taking such a long break in my work for a while. It seems I've lost some readers because of it, and that makes me sad. It's no one's fault but my own though, and I hope the writing is still enjoyable to anyone who continued reading. As for this chapter, I've got a different approach. Let me know what you think. Thanks! **

Despite being hungrier than she'd been in a while, Til knew she would survive. Perhaps since joining the Companions, she'd gotten lazy. _Or, _she thought, _as lazy as a Companion can get._ For years of her life she'd had nothing to eat unless she stole it or killed it and prepared it herself; she would begin doing it again if she had to. She missed Seara. Escorting her to Windhelm and then being left for the wolves, both figuratively and literally, was not what she'd been expecting.

Of course, neither Seara nor Revak had actually left her for the wolves. Both of them had offered her a place to stay and a plate of food when she was hungry, but she missed Seara, not Revak. Her stomach growled loudly as she walked through the streets and out the city gates, kicking at the snow as she went. The hunger seemed to subside almost immediately, however, when she thought about what Revak had said to her.

"He doesn't remember," she muttered to herself.

She'd grown up as a true Daughter of Skyrim, someone who longed to fight for her land and eventually die for it. She didn't want to fall ill in her old age and pass away in her sleep, she wanted to die courageously with a sword in her hand, helping Skyrim maintain its freedom or else helping someone who needed her. Either one of those deaths would've led her to the gates of Shor's Hall… until she found herself burdened by the blood of the beast. A "gift" from Hircine. A _blessing._ But all the so-called blessing had ever given her was a feeling of uselessness. She could still fight and die for Skyrim, but to what end? To meet the daedric lord who _blessed _her? The Companions were taught that death was nothing to fear. If a member feared death upon accepting a mission, it would be given away to someone worthier, someone who was willing to die to get it done. No fear in death, they'd always say. It was a good thing she left, because the thought of dying in her current state left her shaking in her worn leather boots.

It couldn't be that hard for Revak to let her in on a secret. Sure, Sovngarde was a holy place, supposedly untouched by mortals. He was given the opportunity to go, came back alive, and all of a sudden, as if he was some sort of divine secret-keeper for the gods, his lips were sealed tighter than the lock on his house. If she could've picked it, she would've stolen his things.

And to think, she really admired him at one point. She looked up to him and wanted to learn everything he knew, and he would teach her willingly. Until now. Now, he chose to withhold the information she wanted to learn about more than anything else. It was as simple as giving a description.

_What's Sovngarde like? _But he wouldn't give her an answer. The worst part of it all was that Seara probably knew. He most likely told her, and the two decided to keep it a secret from everyone else. Aside from being completely obnoxious, it made no sense… and it was breaking her heart.

She drew a steel arrow from the quiver on her back and readied it, steadying her hand as she held her hunting bow out in front of her and concentrated on a deer wandering along the side of the river. She took a deep breath and was just about to release when another arrow, belonging to someone else entirely, whizzed past her ear and found its mark in her target. The deer fell to the ground, a clean kill, and she found herself enraged that someone would steal her dinner while she had her eye on it. She turned around to see Raeryn dressed for the hunt in his green shirt, black pants and boots, lowering his bow slowly. He walked toward her, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, angry. "That was mine."

"I've no doubt you claimed it for yourself," he responded nonchalantly. "But you were standing too close, and it was about to run."

"How could you possibly know that? Look. I don't have much patience today. I'm hungry, and you don't want to be around me. I…"

"Haven't hunted in a while?"

Til stared at him, sensing a different meaning behind his words.

"My hunting is just fine," she said.

"I'm sure it is. But your bow hunting is probably much better when you've recently hunted by other means. Since you obviously haven't, you're all out of sorts." He shook his head at her, and she looked at him, wide-eyed. "Quit looking at me like that. The wolf-smell on you is obvious and you're practically halfway transformed."

"How do you…"

"I've been around long enough to pick out a wolf among sheep, so to speak. That's dangerous, you know, letting yourself go that long without a hunt. Why do you do it?"

"I'm practicing repressing it." Til looked around, making sure no one was listening. Raeryn obviously knew her secret, and there was no point in hiding it. "Sometimes I think that if I refuse my transformations, eventually I won't need them anymore."

"It isn't a matter of needing them. It's uncontrollable." Raeryn began to walk toward the deer on the side of the river, and Til followed him. "Sure, you have control over when you transform… to an extent. The longer you resist it, the more unpredictable it becomes. You'll find yourself transforming on the streets of Windhelm. If it comes to that, at least make sure you're in the Stone-Quarter. What's your name again, hunter?"

Til paused for a moment, letting him walk ahead.

"Til. Why are you talking to me?" she asked.

"Why not? It seems to me like both of us are outcasts here. Best stick together, right?"

She stared at him.

"What?" he questioned. "Are you eating tonight or not? Help me with this deer."

Til moved forward to help him skin the animal and gather from it what they could, and by the time they'd reached his home in the Gray-Quarter, she'd never been so grateful to clean herself off. The smell of the blood was driving her insane, and she could feel her muscles twitching and itching to transform. That way, she could gorge herself and not have to worry about waiting to prepare any food. She didn't, and several hours later, everything was still cooking. She felt like she could cry, but distracted herself with questions and conversation instead.

"Do you have to do that every day?" she asked, admiring the intricate black pattern of leaves extending from Raeryn's ear to the corner of his eye.

"This?" He rubbed it, and to her surprise, it didn't smudge or flake off. "This is permanent. It was done when I was a child in Morrowind. My sisters have the same design. It indicates that we're all a member of the same family, and the design grows with us. My brother Revyn opted out of it when he was younger. He didn't want to be identified as a Sadri, but now it's all the Nords ever call him. 'Sadri's Used Wares.' Hah, I think these things happen to teach lessons. I even told your friend that was his name. Maybe after a while he'll realize he can't change his family."

After smelling the food that was nearly ready to eat, two young Dunmer girls came running down the stairs with a pitter-patter of feet, excited to eat a nice meal. They froze when they caught sight of Til, and she gave them a small, nervous wave.

"It's okay," Raeryn reassured them. "She helped me with dinner. Til, these are my sisters, Raena and Ranmi."

They smiled at her and sat down on either side of the small table, each one breaking off a piece of the fresh loaf of bread and reaching across the table to hand it to the other.

"Why do you do that?" Til asked timidly.

"We've grown up helping each other. It's just a symbol of how we feel," Raeryn explained. "We don't get to do this very often." He took a piece of the bread and handed it to her, and she took one to hand to him, smiling. Being around a table felt different. She was being accepted by nearly complete strangers, even though they could all tell what she was.

Just as they began to eat, the door opened and Revyn stopped in his tracks, letting the snow blow in.

"Sadri," Raeryn greeted. Revyn glared at him before turning to her.

"What's _that _doing here?" he spat, pointing at her.

"…_that_?" Til whimpered.

"She's a friend," Raeryn told him.

"A friend? She's a damn dog, and she probably aligns herself with Ulfric and his army. I don't want her here."

"It's as much our house as it is yours, and she's staying."

Revyn grabbed a plate full of food and skulked off into the other room, sitting down to eat by himself.

"Raeryn," Raena asked. "Are we celebrating the day of First Planting tonight?"

"Finish eating and I'll go find the seeds."

"Is it First Planting already? I guess I've been losing track of time," Til said, finishing off her food. She must've eaten it much faster than she thought.

Soon after, Raeryn had gone off into another small room and rummaged through a wardrobe, where he pulled out an off-white sack and set it down on the table where they'd just finished eating. Ranmi had set a small bowl on the table filled with dirt, and was smiling down at it, looking proud of herself. She tugged on Til's arm, and looked up at her.

"I spent a whole day last week getting this dirt," she said. "Good dirt is hard to find here."

"It looks like good dirt," Til said awkwardly. It didn't.

"Revyn, are you coming to watch the First Planting?" Raena called out.

"No."

"Why not? It means this is a time for putting differences aside and starting new."

"A know damn well what the First Planting means," Revyn yelled. "I'm not putting aside any differences for the people here. I'll have no part of it."

Raena sighed and reached into the sack to pull out a single small seed. She handed it to Ranmi, who held it out to Til.

"You hold it too," she requested. "Then I'll plant it. Maybe another hand will give us better luck this year."

Til took the seed and held it in her palm for a while, concentrating on it. It was small and gray, perhaps not even a healthy seed anymore. She doubted anything would grow from it, but was pleased at how eager the children seemed to be to set their differences aside. They were so eager that they willingly handed their precious seed to a werewolf, knowing she was different, but not showing any hesitation to include her in their evening. Smiling, she handed the seed back to Ranmi.

She pushed it down into the dirt and made sure it was covered well before watering it and setting it atop a small cabinet and watching it for a few minutes as if she hoped it would sprout before her eyes. When it didn't, she and her sister silently walked back up the stairs and away from the rest of them.

"Can we walk?" Til asked Raeryn. He nodded, and they headed out the door leaving Revyn to stew in his own unpleasantness.

"I don't think that seed will grow," she said after a while. "I don't think it could grow anywhere. Actually, I think it was dead."

"It was," Raeryn agreed, looking at his feet as they walked. "I know it was. But they don't. It's for the sake of the ceremony."

"Why do you do it?"

"I'm cynical and my heart holds a lot of hatred, Til, but that doesn't mean I want my sisters to end up like me. Years ago, when we were forced to leave Morrowind, Revyn and I gathered up all the seeds we could find to take with us. Skyrim is nothing like our homeland, and… well, we hoped to make it so. For the longest time, we planted those seeds anywhere we saw fit, but they wouldn't grow. The climate isn't right. And on the day of First Planting, we've always tried again, just for the sake of trying." He sighed. "When mother and father had two more daughters, we were infuriated. It's terrible, absolutely horrible that they have to grow up in a place like this. In the Gray-Quarter. Really, it's terrible they have to grow up in Skyrim at all. They don't know what they've missed. For Dunmer, they're still incredibly young. They've heard stories of Morrowind and seen pictures drawn in books of what the plants looked like, and all they want is to see one of those plants. Just one. So we've planted a seed every year, making them last as long as we can. For them, it's been twenty-one seeds in twenty-one years. For me, it's been nearly two-hundred… and not a single sign of green. The gods have forsaken this place."

_Funny, _Til thought. She was starting to feel that way, too.

"Well," she said, "I like them. I hope they don't grow out of the hopeful stage they're in. Too many people are without hope."

"You know, if you like us well enough you can stay with us. If you don't want to stay at the Inn by yourself, I mean. Why aren't you staying with your friends?"

"I'd rather not talk too much about it. The Dragonborn came back from his _grand_ adventure, and now he doesn't want to tell me anything about it. I just wanted to know what Sovngarde was like. You know… because I never will on my own."

"It's alright," Raeryn said quietly. "I won't know either. But I'm perfectly happy with that, quite honestly."

Just as Til was about to say something in response, a scream pierced the night air, and she found herself frozen on the spot. Raeryn started to run toward the sound, hoping to find out what was wrong, and she followed him until they reached the Hall of the Dead. A young woman was struggling against an older man wielding an iron dagger with the obvious intent of killing her, and Raeryn drew his bow, steadying his arm.

"Take him out!" Til whispered harshly.

"I don't want to hit the girl!"

The woman fell to the ground with a fresh dagger wound across her throat, and Raeryn shot his arrow with precise aim at the man's heart. It hit its mark and he crumpled to the ground next to his victim, where their blood mixed on the stone.

"I didn't hit him soon enough," Raeryn said, sounding guilty and upset with himself. "I just didn't want to hurt her when I was…"

"You!" A guard was making his way closer to them, taking quick glances at the scene. "What just happened here?"

"I was just—" Raeryn started.

"I want to hear it from her," interrupted the guard. Til looked at Raeryn and then back at the guard. Several other people had begun to gather around.

"We were just walking and talking when we heard a woman scream. We followed the sound and found that man attacking a woman… Raeryn shot him with an arrow, but he'd already killed her. There was nothing we could do."

"Calixto…" said the guard, examining the killer's body. "Calixto is the one who's been murdering all these women? Divines…"

As more and more people began to flood the scene, Til caught sight of Seara and Revak on the opposite side of the courtyard. Feeling disgusted and not wanting to talk to Revak or even look at him, she turned and walked away. As she went, she could feel her heart beating faster, and her vision began to blur. She needed to sit down and take a few deep breaths, so she ran back to Raeryn's house and found herself sitting in a corner with her knees to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Her fingers started hurting first, then her toes, arms, and legs. Everything felt like it was being broken, and if she moved, she'd never be the same again. She sat that way for hours, until Raeryn made his way back and found her in the same panicked state, not knowing what to do.

"It's happening," she told him. "I got too worked up, and I can't help it…! Raeryn, what do I do? I'm in the city… I-I-I can't move or it'll get worse. I thought it would go away, but it isn't going away, and _I don't know what to do!_" Her teeth had begun to hurt, and she was trembling.

"Calm down," he said. "The more you panic about it, the faster it'll happen. Get up and slowly walk out. There's a gate close by." He opened the door, and she bolted out as fast as she could, unable to calm herself like he'd instructed. Her heart pounded in her chest and all of her senses heightened as she ran out the city gate and across the bridge covered in snow that seemed like it was going to blind her in the rising sun. She couldn't think straight or form human thoughts—all she wanted to do was hunt.

Her running was stopped by an arrow grazing her right arm and she screamed, feeling like the sound was more beastlike than anything she'd ever heard come out of another human. She immediately drew her bow and searched for her attacker, still trying as hard as she could to hold back her transformation in case someone would see her. An Imperial soldier stepped out of the trees in front of her and two of his allies came from behind her, grabbing her hands and holding her back.

"_I'll kill you!"_ she roared.

"She will!" Raeryn yelled, running up the path. "Put her down and walk away. Get as far away from here as possible and we won't attack!"

"_Til!"_ Revak's voice echoed in her ears, and her eyes fell on him standing with Seara in the trees on the opposite side of the path. "Do it, Til!"

His voice was enough to fill her heart with anger, and all at once, she couldn't stand the pain anymore. Every muscle in her body ripped, and all her thoughts were gone.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

**A/N: I guess after such a long break in writing, I've been on a roll. I hope three chapters this close together isn't overwhelming or anything. I just can't stop!**

A loud knock on the door the morning after a sleepless night startled Seara as she sat next to Revak at the long dining table back at home. It sounded like someone was about to break it down, and some dust visibly floated around after the sound stopped.

"Open up! It's Ralof!"

Revak ran to the door and pulled it open, but had no time to say anything before Ralof continued, almost out of breath.

"We've gotten word of more Imperials making their way to the city. They aren't here yet, but no one knows how many of them there are. We could use you, Stormblade. Your decision."

He turned and ran off in full Stormcloak attire, making his way to the city gates as fast as possible and leaving Revak to think about his offer.

"I can't go," he said, turning back to Seara. "I can't kill more of them. Not after what I saw."

"Who gives a damn about what you saw?" Seara blurted out, surprising herself. "From the way it sounds, they weren't even real. They just made you feel guilty. It was a trick of the mist, and a vivid one at that, but you _led an army._ They'll need you. If we don't have a city to live in and our friends are dead, we might as well let the Brotherhood take us."

He stared at her and she gave him a kiss, patting his chest.

"Help them, Revak," she said. "I'll help them, too."

"You will?"

"I was given a gift. I'm a healer. I've realized it's selfish to keep that to myself. I'm needed."

Revak nodded at her, closing his eyes tight as he made his final decision and ran upstairs to ready himself for a fight. Seara got herself ready as well, hoping and praying that she wouldn't need the hide armor she put on, and they ran out into the cold morning air. Just outside the gates, several soldiers stood ready and eager to defend their city, drawing their weapons as they approached.

"Follow me, but stay back," Revak commanded, his voice strong. "Sheathe your weapons until I give the word. Archers, hold your fire."

"Why is he telling us what to do? He has no authority!" called out a nameless young soldier from the back of the line. Several of the men and women looked at him in disbelief, and Revak smirked as he strode over to the soldier and stood in front of him.

"You must be new," he said. "How old are you, lad?"

"Seventeen," the boy replied.

"Seventeen," Revak repeated, smiling as he turned and walked back to the front of the line. "Fresh faces are always a good thing. Keep your mouth shut and do as you're told if you're looking to keep your face fresh." Several of the soldiers snickered, and he said nothing more to the boy as he made his way across the bridge, his boots making a crunching noise in the snow. Seara and the rest of the small troop followed close behind, and they kept to the path until they saw a struggle up ahead.

"That's Til!" Seara said, slightly scared. "Those Imperials have hold of her!"

"She's not herself," Revak said under his breath.

"_I'll kill you!" _Til screamed.

"She will!" yelled Raeryn, running up the path just behind them. "Put her down and walk away. Get as far away from here as possible and we won't attack."

Til's eyes fell on them as they watched from the trees, and she started to struggle harder.

"They'll kill her if we attack now." Revak sounded troubled, but Seara could see how hard he was thinking by the look in his eyes. "She'll have to take them out herself, or distract them… _Til!_"

She let out an unearthly snarl as she watched him, and he took a step forward.

"Do it, Til!"

All at once, Til looked as if she was in so much physical pain that Seara's heart broke for her. Her limbs began to stretch and elongate, and she quickly became covered in a layer of thick, brown fur. Her snarls and growls were still partially human, but as she transformed, all resemblances to her real self faded. She was nothing more than a beast, growling and baring her menacing teeth at the men who threatened her. Her deafening roar struck fear in their hearts, and they immediately began to run from her, scrambling to get to safety as they tripped over their own feet. Revak pulled out his bow and shot down two of the soldiers from his spot in the trees, one right after the other. The first arrow dealt a killing blow for a quick death, but the last two men weren't as lucky.

The second arrow caught a soldier's thigh, causing him to trip and fall. Unable to move, he watched as his partner was thrown to the ground by the massive werewolf before them and subsequently ripped to pieces by a flash of claws and teeth. His screams died out after just a few seconds, and Til moved onto her next victim, the last soldier, who was trying and failing to crawl away. She grabbed onto his legs, sinking her claws into his calves, and began to draw him closer.

"Shoot me!" he yelled, looking at Revak. Revak readied another arrow and winced as he released, killing the man before Til could do it her way.

"Kill it!" shouted the seventeen-year-old soldier. Til had spotted two more Imperials in the distance and was doing to them as she'd done to the first two; she continued to glance back at the rest of them hungrily, and Revak knew she would head back toward them when she was finished.

"You can't let that thing live!" the boy yelled again, overstepping the line and pushing his way past the other soldiers with his bow up.

"Get back!" Revak ordered with his own bow still drawn, shoving the boy backward with a push of his shoulder and trying to concentrate.

"I won't take orders from someone who isn't my commanding Officer!" The young soldier's face was flushed. "It's going to kill us if we don't do something, and I didn't plan on being ripped to pieces today!"

Revak turned to him, livid.

"_Zun!"_ he shouted. The soldier's bow was ripped from his hands and landed somewhere in the snow to his left, and Revak grabbed him by the front of his cuirass and shoved him down. Standing with a foot planted on his chest and an arrow pointed at his throat, he continued. "Only a fool oversteps _nine_ other soldiers of higher ranking authority than himself. I may not be your commanding Officer, but I _am_ in command of your life. Do as I say or I'll end it. _Get. Back._"

The boy stared at him, wide-eyed.

"You're Stormblade," he whispered.

"I said get back, soldier."

He stood up shakily and ran back to where the other soldiers stood, waiting for his orders. Til began to bound toward them with another deafening roar, and he commanded that they hold their ground as she advanced. When she was almost on top of them, he shouted again.

"_Kaan drem ov!"_

She stopped in front of him, her hulking form towering ever his body and her hot breath clearly visible in the frigid morning air. She was completely calm, and when he reached out to put a hand on her side, she let him.

"Those are her eyes," Seara commented, looking up at her. "She knows who we are. She's changing."

"You," Revak said, motioning for the young soldier to step forward. "Give me your sash."

"My sash? But its part of my uniform—"

Revak scowled at him, and he started undoing the buckles on his belts to release the blue sash covering him. He handed over the long piece of fabric, shivering slightly in the cold, and Revak held it out to Til, who took it in a clawed hand and ran off with it.

"Now," Revak started, turning around to face the troop. "What you've seen here today isn't something that will be spoken of again. The wolf is a friend of mine, and she's done us a favor—that's it. She would've done the same for us in a normal state of mind, and I expect you'll treat her no differently."

Listening to him talk, Seara hoped the message would sink in, but feared it wouldn't. He was speaking to many people who thought the elves didn't deserve work or a nice place to stay. Why would they be accepting of someone they'd just witnessed transform into a werewolf?

"You're dismissed," he told them. A few of them left much faster than others, but for a moment, several seemed to stick around, wanting to make sure Til was okay. They didn't wait too long, but it was enough time for Seara to see the glimmer of care in their eyes. Ralof stayed behind with them, and Raeryn walked into the trees, emerging again several moments later supporting a very weak and bloody Til, wrapped in blue.

She looked over at them with a deep sadness in her eyes that words couldn't express, and simply brought a hand to her mouth to wipe the blood away, succeeding only in smearing it over her cheek and getting it in her hair. Her legs shook, and when she realized the blood in and around her mouth wasn't her own, she found herself violently sick. Raeryn knelt with her until she stood up again, looking rather wobbly; after thanking him, she grit her teeth and started to walk down the path alone, in the opposite direction of the city.

"Thanks for staying with her," Revak muttered to Raeryn as he walked past him and grabbed Til's arm.

"Say it to my face, Nord."

Revak looked over at him and stayed silent for a second, examining him.

"Thank you," he said again, maintaining eye contact. Raeryn turned and left, and Seara caught up to Revak just as Til pulled her arm out of his grasp.

"Please don't," she said, her voice breaking and raspy.

"Where are you going?" Revak asked. "You're not leaving."

"I am leaving, actually." She readjusted the sash she was holding around herself and closed her eyes in pain, and a tear slid down her cheek. "I'm going back to Whiterun where I know there are people like me. I never should have left. I couldn't even stay here if I wanted to. Everyone is going to know about what I am. I can't hide it from anyone here."

"You don't even have any of your clothes."

"There was a time when I didn't have anything at all, remember? I'll find what I need, and I'll live."

"What about Sovngarde?"

Til stopped walking and looked back at him tiredly.

"It doesn't even matter anymore."

"Don't you dare lie to me, Tilliana." Revak said. He stared at her as she shook her head. "I might not be able to tell you what I saw there, but I believe there's still a way for you to experience it for yourself. If you leave right now, if you go back to Whiterun because you're afraid of some sideways glances, I can't help you. The words won't come to me, Til. They never will. You have to find out what Sovngarde is like for yourself."

She looked him in the eye and they stayed that way for several long seconds before she spoke again.

"…You're not lying," she said, barely audible.

"No," Revak told her. She started to tear up as he went on. "I'm not. Sovngarde is a place for the courageous, the men and women who fought and died for a cause, and the heroes. _Mal kendov…_ you have a choice. If you're terrified of your eternity with Hircine, change it. Fight for your homeland and take a chance. If you die, you stand up and speak about your life and all the reasons you deserve entry into Shor's Hall; that's all you can do. I believe in you. You have heart. If you want an eternity in Sovngarde, reach for it. It isn't automatically granted to anyone."

"Please stay with us, Til," Seara pleaded. "You mean more to me than you understand."

Til gave a small nod and looked back toward the city, trying hard not to let any more tears fall.

"Will you come with me to the Palace?" Revak asked. "We'll stop by the Inn and get you your real clothes, but I'd like for you to be a part of something."

Because the morning was still young, they didn't have a problem walking through the city unseen. Til had washed the blood off her face with some of the freshly fallen snow before they entered, and didn't look anywhere near as troubling as she had previously. With a new outfit on and a weak smile, they led her to the Palace of the Kings, where she entered timidly after Revak and Ralof.

Seara wondered what they were doing. The Imperials had already been taken care of and no reinforcements were needed. She waited for any questions to be answered as Revak stood in front of Ulfric and began to speak clearly to him.

"Jarl Ulfric," he said.

"Stormblade," said Ulfric, giving him a curt nod.

"The Imperials just outside the city have been taken care of, but there will be more. I've been in battle long enough to know that it's no coincidence they've shown up at our gates twice. An attack on the city is being planned." He made sure he was standing up as straight as he could, and placed a fist over his heart. "I would be honored if you would allow me to fight for you again as I used to, and help lead your troops to victory. I would be even more honored if my friend would join your ranks at my side."

Til turned to look at him, dumbfounded. Joining the Stormcloaks was something Seara knew she'd always wanted, and with Revak's words, she was finally getting her chance to prove herself and fight for her home. She never took her eyes off him as he went on, amazed that someone would say such things about her.

"The woman at my side is Tilliana. She has a heart braver and stronger than most of the warriors I've met. Growing up, she struggled, and she overcame her difficulties. Now, she is a true Nord at heart, who wants nothing more than to die with a sword in her hand for Skyrim and her people. She's a talented fighter; I've tested her myself. If you let her, she would make a wonderful addition to this army… she is, truly, a Daughter of Skyrim."

There was a heavy silence in the room.

"And what do the rest of you think of Tilliana?" Ulfric asked, sending his question out for the other soldiers in the room.

"I stand witness to the strength Stormblade has spoken of," said Ralof, stepping forward.

"As do I," a woman near the Palace doors chimed in.

"Aye," said several others. Most of them were men and women who'd just returned from the gates after witnessing Til's transformation with their own eyes… yet they were still acknowledging her bravery and courage.

Til brought a hand to her mouth, covering it slightly with her trembling fingers as she listened in happy disbelief, glowing with a pride Seara hadn't ever seen in her before.

"Then it's done," Ulfric decided. "I trust Stormblade's word more than I trust any test. Welcome to the ranks, Tilliana. You can see Galmar for your armor. And welcome back, Stormblade. There's no time to waste."

Til turned and crashed into Revak with a hug, the top of her head barely coming to his shoulders. He ruffled up her already messy blonde hair, and pushed her toward the other room.

"Go get ready, _mal kendov,"_ he said. She smiled at him and ran into the war-room to meet Galmar, and Seara could hear his gravelly voice as Revak turned to face her. "_Okaaz miin, _will you help us?"

Seara had to think for a long while on whether or not she would officially join the ranks. It wasn't an easy decision to make on her part, and she was glad Revak hadn't spoken for her. He knew she was still undecided, and although she was proud of Til for the step she had taken, she couldn't follow her.

"I appreciate that the offer is there," she said quietly, "but, respectfully, I would like to follow in my mother's footsteps. I will do everything I can to help you, all of you, but I can't rightfully accept an official place in the war that took ma's life. Yes, I'll help, but no, I won't join."

Revak nodded at her and took her hand, and she knew full well that the choice had been completely hers. He wasn't going to be cold toward her for refusing to join, because just the previous night he'd said he wouldn't do it either. She recognized that circumstances affected people differently, and she knew the army needed her husband's support just as much as she did. It was a weighty decision, offering all the help she could provide, but she would do it proudly and try her best. She longed to prevent the heartache Ralof spoke of, and it was looking like it was time to start.

After a few minutes Til emerged from the war-room in full Stormcloak armor, beaming from ear to ear. Not only was it official, but the armor was new, and Til hadn't owned anything before that wasn't given to her after it had gotten its use from someone else. She placed her fist over her heart as she faced Ulfric himself and spoke to him.

"I do swear my blood and honor to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim. As Talos is my witness, let this oath bind me to death and beyond, even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms." She took a breath and continued with pride, "All hail the Stormcloaks, the true Sons and Daughters of Skyrim!"

A round of cheers and applause echoed throughout the room as she finished reciting her oath, and soon after, the three of them were on their way out the Palace doors to make their way back to Hjerim for a meal and some rest. Seara couldn't shake the feeling of being nervous about entering her house, knowing that someone from the Dark brotherhood was aware of where she and Revak lived, but she kept her thoughts to herself as they walked, deciding to let Revak make sure everything was clear before she would enter.

"Hello there," said a voice to her left. She looked over to find Raeryn leaned up against the stone wall surrounding the Palace courtyard, looking down at his boots as he shuffled some snow around with his feet.

"Raeryn!" Til grinned at him, but when he looked up at her, he wasn't smiling in the slightest.

"I heard you were doing some celebrating over here. That Stormcloak armor looks just as bad on you as it does on everyone else. I thought you were someone I could trust."

"What? You can trust me. I'm—"

"It doesn't matter. It's done now." He stood up straight and shrugged, looking betrayed. "Turn your attention to the high walls. The city has been infiltrated."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"Don't look," Revak warned in a low voice. Til and Seara stood frozen in the courtyard of the Palace, hardly daring to blink. Almost immediately, Raeryn calmly walked away from them, making sure his hands were nowhere near any of the weapons he carried. "We don't want them to know they've been spotted."

He turned to Seara, glancing up at the high walls in the distance as much as he could without physically moving his head as he did so. In the single pass he'd made over them, he'd seen three Imperial soldiers crouching equal distances from each other on the narrow stone; they were watching the courtyard with their bows drawn, waiting to pick off any soldiers they spotted as they exited the Palace. Feeling suddenly thankful he hadn't changed into any Officer armor, he started to form a plan and addressed the two of them with a low voice.

"They're ready, but they won't attack while we're all here together. They're acting more like war assassins, picking the enemy off one by one until it's safer for their army to advance, or until they're killed themselves. Til," he said, still looking at Seara. "Don't look at me. You're in uniform and they've got their eyes on you, I guarantee it. Turn around and walk back into the Palace. Look at your boots the whole way, and tell Ulfric what's going on as soon as you get inside. Don't let anyone come out until you hear the city bell ring."

She did as he said, looking a bit shaken, and he shook his head at Seara to feign irrelevant conversation.

"You look like an everyday traveler," he told her. She shrugged to keep up the ruse as he went on. "In a few seconds you'll need to walk down the steps toward the Inn. Like I told Til, don't look up, for any reason. Tell everyone inside not to leave, and you can come back out after I've rung the bell."

"I've got it," she said. She pushed him playfully and smiled, and he appreciated her acting, hoping the soldiers above saw little more than two people offering an exchange of affections. "I love you."

"I love you too, Seara."

He didn't wait around to watch her walk away, but instead left at the same time in the direction of the burial tombs. He opened the door as quietly as he could and slipped inside, straining to listen for the priestess of the dead so he could avoid her. Citizens weren't allowed into the Hall of the Dead without special rights first, such as permission to visit a recently deceased family member. He certainly hadn't been granted permission to wander the halls, let alone the bell tower. Hearing footsteps nearby, he let out a whispered word and felt himself fade away into the wall behind him.

"_Feim."_

He held his breath until he was sure she was far enough away for him to continue on, and clenched and unclenched his fists as he felt his body return to normal, hating the sensation of being unaware of his own body. The priestess could spot him after he'd done his job for all he cared, he just couldn't afford to be stopped along the way. Every bit of time lost was time for the infiltration to worsen.

The air seemed to press in all around him, stale smelling and musty. He could handle the draugr well enough, seeing as how they'd been dead for thousands of years and smelled like nothing more than stale bone dust, but something about being around and being able to smell the stench of freshly deceased and decaying bodies made his stomach turn. It was worse than the reek of a blood-soaked battlefield, but not by much.

Upon reaching the old door to the bell tower, he moved with the lightest footsteps he could manage and started to turn the knob to let himself in. He turned it as slow as possible to avoid making any unnecessary noise and silently cursed to himself when it would move no further.

_Locked._

He got down on one knee to bring his eyes level with the lock, examining it. He hadn't picked a lock since he'd left the Guild, but it didn't look too difficult and he figured it was one of the things a man never really forgot how to do. Reaching into one of the pockets over his chest, he pulled out the single lockpick he carried just in case, praying it wouldn't break. It was his only one. He slowly began to work, his hands shaking slightly in the cold. It was difficult to see in the dimly lit crypt, but he managed to release the lock with a satisfying _click _and pushed his way inside.

He shut the door softly behind him and began his trek up the spiraling steps, feeling the air grow colder as he went. The tower wasn't very tall; in fact, it wasn't truly a tower at all. It was a small room surrounding a large bell, with walls consisting of the same dull-gray brick the rest of the city was built in. There were rectangular windows on all sides for the release of sound, but currently, they would serve a different purpose.

He drew his bow and readied an arrow, hanging back in the shadows and trying not to sniffle as his nose numbed in the bitter wind. Each window was a relatively small opening; he wouldn't be able to stick his bow out of it to aim. Moving as close as he could, he crouched down low and shot his arrow as soon as the first Imperial soldier's attention was directed elsewhere, landing it in his side.

"Damn it," Revak muttered under his breath, watching the soldier fall forward. He screamed as he fell, landing with a sickening sound on the icy stone. If he wasn't dead from the arrow, he was dead now. A woman who'd been walking nearby screamed at the sight of the body, and Revak turned and sat with his back against the stone, hoping the others hadn't seen where the shot came from.

He stood up again, sending another arrow over the rooftops and killing the second soldier, who fell draped over the wall, his blood dripping down the bricks in vivid contrast. Just as he was about to turn and send out another arrow, the third soldier spotted him and sent a shot his way, grazing his right arm just above where his gloves stopped, leaving a gash behind. He ducked and examined it, deciding it was nothing that couldn't be taken care of later and pulling another arrow out of his quiver, ignoring the warmth of the blood on his freezing skin. It took four quick shots to bring the last soldier down, and Revak found himself becoming increasingly nervous with each precious arrow he lost. Glancing around the city walls, he saw nothing but a few panicked citizens; the initial wall archers were dead, but he was certain there would be more soldiers beyond the walls. He grabbed the thick rope attached to the bell and tugged on it, sending a deep chime throughout the city. The sound vibrated in his chest as he walked back down the stairs, contemplating his course of action.

Back outside, he was met with what appeared to be close to one-hundred other Stormcloak soldiers, including Til and Ralof, who stood at the front of the crowd. Seara was next to them, and his heart sped up as he looked at her, ready to help. He couldn't allow her to be hurt—he would hate himself. Galmar and Ulfric stepped up to stand on either side of him with their weapons drawn, and although Ulfric wouldn't set foot on the front lines unless he was absolutely needed, he was ready to defend himself without hesitation.

"Stormblade," Galmar said. "I've received word from the outside. The army is advancing. The men are ready to fight at our command. If you take half of them, I'll take the other, and we'll remind these faithless dogs who really won the battle for Solitude!"

"There won't be any reminding after today," Revak told him, scanning all the eager yet nervous faces in the crowd. "I've grown tired of this war."

"You and I both," said Ulfric. "Let's get this over with."

Revak cleared his throat, knowing they would expect him to say something, but with all the different thoughts swirling around in his head, the only way he could think clearly was in the language that came to him most naturally when he was upset. The blood of the _dov_ coursed through his veins as he got angrier thinking about how many men and women would die fighting because the Imperial army hadn't backed down when they'd lost. The words he wanted to say built up in his chest and spilled over before he could think clearly enough to translate them for his audience.

"_Zeymahhe ahrk briinahhe!"_ he barked, getting their attention. A few of them looked confused, and some of them appeared invigorated by hearing him begin his commands in the dragon language. One of the only other men alive to have studied with the Greybeards stood next to him, and he spoke as a translator, combining their voices into one rallying speech.

"Brothers and sisters!" Ulfric yelled.

"_Daar sul, faal hakoron los meyz fah faal laat tiid."_

"Today, the enemy will come for the last time."

Revak began to pace as he spoke to them, feeling the passion to fight Ralof had spoken so fondly of begin to burn within him.

"_Daar sul, nust fen faas nuz nust fen ni bovul—"_

"Today, they will fear but they will not flee—"

"_Nust lost pogaan muz, nuz mu lost ahkrin!"_

"They have many men, but we have courage!" Ulfric stepped forward, turning his war axe over in his hands.

"_Nust krif voth dukaan, ahrk mu krif fah Keizaal!" _Revak was yelling, feeling his throat start to become sore with each breath of frigid air he drew. "_Aan uznahgaar fus fen banaar enook jul daar sul ol rok gindde ok dinok."_

"They fight with dishonor, but we fight for Skyrim! An unbridled force will humble each man today as he meets his death…"

"_Daar sul, mu krif zohungaar, mu krif voth nah, ahrk mu zind voth kah!"_

"Today, we fight heroically, we fight with fury, and we triumph with pride!"

An explosion sounded in the distance, indicating that the Imperial army knew they were about to be challenged. As the noise continued and the ground began to shake beneath their feet, Revak only got louder.

"_Mu aal dir ko zahrahmiik, nuz mu dir voth zin! Kotin grah, zeymahhe arhk briinahhe! Daar sul, mu kron!"_

"We may die in sacrifice," Ulfric bellowed, "but we die with honor! Into battle, brothers and sisters…" he raised his axe up high as he continued and the other soldiers did the same, rowdy and hardly able to stay put. "_Today, we conquer!"_

"Go!" Revak yelled, lifting his bow high as he watched the army run toward the gates. "_Go!"_

"Talos guide you, Stormblade. Lead them to victory." Ulfric placed a fist over his heart before heading back to the palace, and Revak took a deep breath and ran out the gates with his soldiers.

The horizon was dotted with men headed their way, ready for a fight. A few of the Stormcloak archers were already bringing them down from afar, but they were outnumbered and the Imperials continued to advance. To his right, Seara was standing with her hands at the ready, looking terrified at the thought of moving forward.

"You don't have to do this," he told her.

"No," she said. "I don't. But I want to. My mother did it, and so will I."

Revak nodded at her, feeling an ache in his heart. He looked at the horizon and back to her as he continued.

"Stay back as far as you can until you see someone in need." He raised his voice as the sounds of explosions and firing catapults erupted in the distance. "I'm proud of you, _okaaz miin._ I love you." She nodded at him with a nervous smile, and he joined the front line of archers, holding up his own bow. Til stood next to him with a concentration and a fire in her eyes, and the line sent forth several volleys of arrows at his command.

"There's too many of them!" yelled Til, looking worried as they released another round of arrows. "What do we do when they get up here?"

"We fight back with everything we've got," said Raeryn calmly as he fell into line beside them. Galmar was fuming at the sight of him, and though Raeryn didn't look pleased to be on the front lines either, he stood confidently. "I have a family to protect," he told them. "Among other things."

_Everything we've got,_ thought Revak. He glanced around his surroundings, thinking fast about what all they could use against the enemy. A short distance away, in the trees, he spotted a gray wolf with its head hung low, eyeing the soldiers headed toward them. He was all skin and bones, searching desperately for a meal and presumably hoping something would be left behind for him when the battle was done. If there was one wolf there was bound to be another and quite possibly more—all hungry. Why not give them the meal they were looking for?

"I've got something," he told Til, setting his eyes on the staring wolf. He needed to make sure it was watching him and him only. As soon as he was sure it was stepping forward to challenge his dominant stare, he shouted at it.

"_Raan mir tah!"_

The wolf charged at him and several others followed it out of the trees, and the four showed no sign of slowing as they got closer. He started to worry but refused to let his face or his body show any sign of it, drawing his ebony sword. In one swift movement, he pointed it at the wolves and then used it to direct them at the oncoming army; with some of the quickest obedience he'd ever seen, they turned in formation to pounce on the Imperials, burying their icy fangs deep in the flesh of the enemy.

Their grips were like vices and each one took out a man of his own, tearing him mercilessly to pieces. Though they did nothing to stop the men running toward them, they proved to be useful and relentless allies, taking down one soldier after another. The air around him erupted with the sound of clashing steel as both armies met and mixed, and to Revak's left, Ralof bashed another man in the face with his bow, breaking his nose and staggering him before shoving a blade through his heart. Til was taking full advantage of her slight form, running easily between soldiers in combat and dragging her dagger across the throats of the unsuspecting.

The battle continued for what felt like an eternity as Revak caught sight of the bodies of friends and enemies lying in the snow. Seara was working fervently over the body of a freshly fallen soldier, doing everything she could to keep him alive. As soon as she knew he could walk again, she sent him back into the city gates to wait at the Inn for further instructions and moved on to finding others who needed her help. Despite her best efforts, the death toll was rising; the stubborn young soldier who'd spoken out of line lay lifeless, among others.

As he shouted orders to the men and women he commanded, Revak felt as though he could barely hear himself. Every noise was drowned out by another until the deafening roar of battle was all that could be heard. Taunts went unnoticed and cries for help were useless. Even though they hadn't been told so, each soldier knew he had to defend his own life first if he wished to keep it. Soldiers were fighting in the frigid shallows of the river, turning the water red with their blood.

"Take out the small one!" someone yelled from the crowd. Revak turned around with his sword ready, scanning the bloodied faces for the one who'd called out the threat on his friend. Another young soldier, long hair sticking in the blood and sweat covering his face, was taking aim across the battlefield with a hunting bow and waiting for a clear shot at Til, who had no idea she was being targeted. He released the arrow and missed, losing all his breath as Revak tackled him and drew a clean line across his throat. Standing up, he caught a glimpse of a wedding band on the soldier's left ring finger before turning away from him and blocking out the sight altogether.

Another Imperial was running toward Til, who took a few shots at him but was unable to bring him down. As he got closer to her, she backtracked and tripped over a body, falling over on top of it. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as Revak raced toward her; Seara's eyes were on her friend, wide and panicked. Blood smeared her arms and face as she yelled.

"_Til!"_

There was a flash of gray in front of the oncoming soldier, and all at once, he toppled to the ground, wrestling. It took Revak a second to register what was going on. Raeryn had come running when he'd seen Til fall, and he was on the ground underneath the soldier with nothing to protect him but his bow and the dagger at his side he couldn't reach with his arms pinned. Revak drew his bow and sent an arrow at the soldier, hitting him in the neck, but not before he'd managed to send his sword through Raeryn's stomach.

Revak took out several more soldiers in the immediate area, noticing that their numbers had greatly lessened, but not without loss on his army's part. Without looking, he could hear Til's pained cries from behind him.

"_No!"_ she was screaming. Galmar was restraining her, cursing at her, yelling for her to return to battle before she was killed. In Galmar's opinion, Skyrim was better off without the elf anyway. "_Get off me! Get! Off! Seara!"_

Revak took Galmar's place, holding Til back by her upper arms as she struggled against him. Tears were streaming down her face and the look in her eyes was vicious.

"_Let me go! You bastard! Let me go!" _

"Til, we have to keep fighting!"

"_Seara! Fix him! You have to fix him!" _He could feel Til trembling as she shrieked. "_Don't you dare let him die!" _

Seara regained her composure and ran over to the scene, kneeling over Raeryn, her knees covered in his blood. He was still fighting and didn't look like he would give up willingly, but his teeth were stained red as he feebly smiled at Til.

"No matter how good you are, a bow doesn't offer much help in close combat," he coughed.

"I'll kill them all," Til swore. "Every last one of them."

"Do only what you need to," he said quietly. "Life is a precious thing."


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

**A/N: BIG RELIEVED SIGH. The semester is almost over, and my finals are coming to an end. Let's celebrate with some… sadness? Anyway, here you go. A bit short, and I'm sorry for taking so long, but I've promised several times I'll finish, so don't forget about me! The question for this chapter, if you feel like answering it, is who do you think is right? Did everyone do the right thing?**

"I've got it," Seara assured Revak as she applied pressure to Raeryn's wounds. "I can do this. It won't be easy, but things have calmed down some. It'll take some time before he fully recovers, but I know I can heal him."

Revak knelt down next to her and wiped some of the blood off her cheeks before nodding and standing to fight alongside the remaining soldiers. There were very few others left, and Ralof appeared to be at a standstill with one of them. They were both standing in the snow on the other side of the river, looking at each other. As he moved across the bridge, he could hear them talking.

"You're a damned traitor," the Imperial said, drawing his sword. He looked to be of higher status than the rest of the soldiers, but he certainly wasn't a general. "I thought I knew you, and then you ran off with the rebels for some 'greater cause.' You make me sick."

"If anyone is a traitor, it's you, Hadvar," Ralof countered him, lowering his sword. Revak recognized the man as the very same one who'd taken his name so many years ago when he re-entered Skyrim, and immediately disliked him. "You're a traitor to all the true Sons and Daughters of Skyrim just by wearing that filthy uniform. Don't you see? We fight to protect our way of life and our right to worship who we please. Have you no shame in taking those rights away and watching Skyrim crumble until she's gone? By fighting this war, that's all you're doing. Allowing her to fall prey to everyone else around her."

"_I _am_? _You Stormcloaks and your beloved 'true High King' are what started this war in the first place!"

"_And you lost!"_

"We haven't lost until every last one of my men is dead, Ralof."

"Your… your men? You led this?

"You would be surprised at the number of people willing to take the rebels down." Hadvar smirked as he shrugged, looking a bit too confident in himself for Revak's taste. He was being ignorant. "You're nothing but a bunch of untrained men and women playing army, with a leader who's somehow gotten away without being seized and executed for murder!"

Ralof fumed at his words, too angry to speak.

"You go against everything the Imperial Army stands for," Revak said, moving closer. "When Ralof fought for them, they stood for justice and had the best interest of the people of _Taazokaan _in mind. Somewhere along the line, your heads got bigger than I would've expected. Your men are dead. There are only a few who still stand and fight, and you're pushing them to their deaths over a cause that's already been won from you fairly!"  
>Hadvar paused, thinking about what Revak had said, the corner of his lips twitching slightly. He nodded, shuffling his boots in the snow.<p>

"_Soldiers, hold your fire!"_ he yelled. The remaining soldiers stopped fighting, looking around to see where his voice had come from. When they spotted him, they listened intently. "This war is over. The Dragonborn thinks it's pointless and that we've already lost. It's time for us to leave. We've done all we can here."

Revak shook his head slightly, feeling incredibly irritated. In the cold, in the middle of battle, all had been stopped simply so everyone could witness him being openly mocked and patronized.

"Alright," he said, deciding to go along with it. "So it's settled then. It's at this point we walk away."

"Not without a proper farewell." Hadvar reached out to him and the two men shook hands. "You've saved countless lives by defeating the evil that was crippling Skyrim, and for that, I could never end your life anyway."

"No!" Galmar growled, trudging his way through the snow to reach them. "There won't be any truce under my lead. I don't care if we're both commanding officers or not, Stormblade. The decision has to be unanimous."

"The decision has already been made," Hadvar told him. "You decided to express your thoughts a little too late." He held out his hand, but it was ignored. "I'm not offended by your refusal to shake my hand. You can never really trust anyone enough to do that in the midst of a war. Ralof?"

He turned, holding out his hand to Ralof, who looked at it with disgust.

"I'll never shake your hand."

"Like I told Galmar," Hadvar began, chuckling. There was a false smile on his face that mixed with the fire of hatred in his eyes, and for a moment, he looked like a madman. "I'm not offended. Perhaps there are better ways to deal with traitors, anyway."

Before anyone could react, Hadvar drew his sword and drove it into Ralof's chest, still quietly laughing. He was met almost immediately with a blow from Galmar's battle axe and fell to the ground, his head rolling separately down toward the river, leaving a trail of his blood in its path. Ralof's eyes were wide as he sunk to his knees, and Revak caught him by the arms.

"Stormblade!" Galmar roared. "You damned hot-headed idiot! Get him to cover before I do the same to you!"

And so Revak started to drag his old friend toward Seara, his only possible salvation, still in a daze. He got as close as he could before Ralof began begging him to stop.

"I can't stop," he told him, kneeling down. "You have to hold on. Seara can help you! She can help you."

"I don't want to go any further, Stormblade," Ralof said, barely audible. "The pain is excruciating and the dragging makes it worse."

"I'll carry you. Come on."

"No."

The silence between them was thick. The silence was noise.

"What do you mean, 'no?' This fight isn't over!" Revak yelled.

"The fight _is _over, Stormblade. We did what had to be done. It was all Hadvar wanted. He got what he wanted so we could end this gods-forsaken war. You said it in your battle speech. Sacrifices sometimes have to be made and men will be lost, but it's all for the betterment of our homeland."

"_Your_ fight isn't over." He glanced around, wishing Seara was closer. She was still hunched over Raeryn, concentrating on stabilizing him. "_Seara!_" he called out. She looked up for a second, taking notice of him, and began to work faster. He called out to her again, but she didn't move, and Til came bounding toward them through the frigid river water. She stumbled forward, bringing some of the water ashore, melting a patch of snow. Her lips were blue and he could see her breath as she called out to Seara as well, for the exact opposite reason.

She didn't want her to stop working.

"Don't make her stop," Ralof said, coughing. A small amount of blood spattered down the front of his chin, but he ignored it. "When I signed up to fight for Skyrim, I said I was willing to die for her. Sovngarde welcomes me into her arms. You've had the chance to see her beauties, but I have not. Please, Stormblade. Let a fellow Nord die in peace. I accept my invitation to the afterlife freely. I'm ready."

Revak shook his head and yelled in Seara's direction again, standing up and heading toward her, taking Ralof with him despite his protests. Even when he reached her, Seara still didn't take her attention from Raeryn. After several long seconds, she pronounced that he was good enough to get by until later, and finally looked down at Ralof. Though the fight around them had been won, her expression said everything she couldn't.

"It doesn't look good, does it lass?" Ralof smiled. "I tried to tell him. Thank you."

"I… can't." Seara whispered. "He's been down too long. There's nothing…"

"Stomblade?" Ralof asked.

"It's Revak."

"I am honored to have a friend good enough to try and help me today the way you did." Ralof closed his eyes. "I'll be seeing you, Revak."

As Ralof took his last breath, Revak looked away from him and over at Raeryn's unconscious body.

"You could have helped him," he said quietly.

"I could have helped him if I let Raeryn die, Revak. I wasn't about to let someone totally innocent die because I decided that someone else's life was more important."

"_What do you think you just did?_" Revak yelled. "Ralof was a soldier. He was willing to die for Skyrim's people, but that doesn't mean he had to! You chose who you wanted to save."

"No, Revak! I chose to save Raeryn's life because he was injured first. Ralof was ready and willing to die… Raeryn has a family to protect. Death is a part of war and you know it. If you can't handle seeing a friend die, you shouldn't have accepted the position of Officer."

Til walked up from behind them and collapsed in the snow next to Raeryn's body, putting her head on his chest and hugging him tightly. The sounds of battle had finally subsided, and she concentrated for a moment with closed eyes, making sure she could hear his heartbeat. The corners of her mouth hinted at a smile after she heard the first _thump,_ and after she'd heard a few more she began to cry. They looked away from her, feeling like they were intruding on something private.

"You're right," Revak said, standing. "It wouldn't have been right of you. But let me just say this. Take a moment to replace Ralof with Til. What would you have done then?"

* * *

><p>Several hours later, the remaining soldiers and their families had assembled in the courtyard in front of the Palace of the Kings, where there were several rows of helmets, shields, and weapons of all kinds propped up in the snow. Each one belonged to a fallen soldier, and there was silence throughout the courtyard save for a few jeers from passerby about the presence of a "Gray-Skin" out of the Gray-Quarter. Til and Raeryn still stood next to each other, proud, despite the words that were thrown at them.<p>

"You know," Raeryn said quietly, before the ceremony had started. "I may have been a bit harsh earlier when I said you looked terrible in that uniform. The connotation it carries isn't very fetching, but I don't think you could look terrible in anything."

Seara smiled, pretending she hadn't heard. Revak stood next to her, silently staring ahead at the dozens of temporary monuments that had been made to honor his men.

"Today," came Ulfric Stormcloak's voice from the palace doorway, "we lost many good men. I knew many of them personally. Sacrifices were made, and we will see our brothers and sisters again in Sovngarde when we make sacrifices of our own."

Til looked down at the ground and Raeryn put an arm around her, understanding.

"But it was not without cause," Ulfric continued. He stepped in front of the crowd, scanning the faces before him. "As each name is read, I ask that you remember your brothers and sisters fondly and with the respect they deserve."

The first name was read off the list in Ulfric's hands, and the deep, melancholy cry of the bell rung throughout the city. It continued to ring after each name, and Seara looked to her right as Ralof's name was called, watching Revak close his eyes. She couldn't help but think about his question. If it had indeed been both Til and Raeryn dying at the same time before her, what would she have done? She may have tried to heal them both simultaneously, but it would have resulted in nothing good. In truth, just as Ralof was important to Revak, Til was important to her, and she probably would have placed a higher priority on her life than on Raeryn's. Revak grabbed her hand and she knew it didn't matter, that he was thankful for all she had done to save the lives she could.

* * *

><p>Back at the Inn, soldiers and families exchanged hugs and kisses, thankful to be alive. They sat around the fire together singing tales of their friends, knowing they were in Sovngarde celebrating in way much more grand. Because Raeryn didn't dare show his face, Til had left.<p>

"Thank you for everything you did today, _okaaz miin. _It was wrong of me to be so upset with you." Revak sat down next to her, sliding over a drink the same way he'd done when they'd first met in Whiterun. She eyed the helmet and sword on the counter next to him, and he shook his head. "Someone has to send word to Ralof's family." He looked down into his drink and sighed. "I could send a letter, but I would much rather tell them in person and make sure his things are delivered for a proper burial on their plot. His body will be here with the rest of our men… but they'll need something."

"When will you leave?" Seara asked him.

"A few days. I need to make sure everything has settled down here at first."

Throughout the night they were thankful to be together, and Seara had many men and women thank her for saving them that day. It wasn't until that moment, upon seeing everyone, including Revak and herself, rejoice in their lives, that she realized just how much she had done.

And she finally knew her worth.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

**A/N: I'm very sorry, guys! There was a HUGE mistake in this chapter, so I had to fix it and re-upload. I wrote Vittoria Vici instead of Viola Giordano and I just now realized it. As a result, this will seem like a duplicate for many of you. I'm working on getting another chapter uploaded tonight, though. Sorry for any notifications you received. **

Til could see her own breath rising up in a swirl as she crouched on the snow-covered rooftop of a home in the Gray-Quarter. Her teeth were chattering and her gloves, fingerless, did little to keep her skin from stinging while she held onto her freshly packed ball of snow. It had been four days since the bloody battle outside the gates had finished, and Raeryn had healed up nicely. She'd spent as much time talking with him as she could manage in the past few days, and he seemed to be much more willing to laugh than before, presumably because he'd been given a second chance at life. His eyes were still tired, but he wore a small smile most of the time; it was a welcome change from the cynical smirk he'd been wearing when she met him. Looking down onto the narrow pathway below, she bit back a snort and some of it stubbornly slipped though, an odd sort of choking sound. Raeryn nudged her, harshly whispering for her to keep quiet.

"She'll hear us," he said, though he too was unable to keep from spitting out his own amusement.

"Then _you _stop laughing, too!" She leaned forward, catching sight of their target, Viola Giordano, striding up the stone steps on her way home after a long day of being nothing more than a typical busybody. Til stifled her laughter just long enough for her to walk directly below them, at which point she dropped the snowball straight down, watching it break up in a fine powder over Viola's head.

"Get down!" Raeryn commanded, pulling her back. It was their fifth successful snowballing, and they did the same as they'd done every time. They rolled back over into the snow, laughing with each other as quietly as they could as they listened to the woman's horrified shrieks from below.

They waited several minutes to make sure she was gone before they crawled to the edge of the roof and jumped down. Til's fur-lined armor, meant to protect her from the elements, was packed thick with snow, and Raeryn's short black hair was white. As they ran back toward his house, they laughed harder than they had in quite some time.

"Did you hear her squeal?"

"Her _voice—"_

"Like demons screeching—"

"She was so mad!"

They barreled through the door, collapsing onto the bench next to it in a fit of laughter. When they'd finally caught their breath, Raeryn started heating a pot of soup over the fire and Til moved closer, contentedly allowing the heat to dry out her clothes and hair. She hadn't had a friend who was eager to play pranks with her in quite some time.

Looking around the house, she knew Raeryn didn't have much and probably never would as long as he lived in Windhelm, but he had a strong spirit, a family he cared deeply for, and a desire to be in high spirits. In that sense, she was reminded of herself. There were bookshelves lining the walls filled to bursting with books old and new; some were in different languages and some were so yellowed and dirty that she hardly thought they would be readable anymore.

"Some of those came all the way from home," Raeryn told her as he stirred the soup. "They're old and some pages are missing, but I like to have them."

Til eyed him curiously, wondering when he'd watched her enough to be able to tell what she was looking at.

"Do you read often?" she asked.

"I try to read daily. Some nights, when mother isn't home, I read to my sisters. Between you and me, I think they like it better that way." He paused, listening. "They probably fell asleep upstairs. It's that time of day when it's after lunch but not quite dinner and they can't think of anything else to do. I'll wake them up when the soup is done."

Til smiled, looking around again. There were drawings on the walls, charcoal on parchment, placed at odd intervals. Some of them were done better than others, bringing to life a world of plants, weapon designs, and even people.

"Did you draw those?"

"Some of them," Raeryn told her. "My sisters did several, and mother did a few. I've always loved to draw. That reminds me…" He walked over to the cabinet he'd retrieved the bag of seeds from on the First Planting, and pulled out another piece of parchment. It was covered in an intricately drawn picture of a rather interesting plant with thick thorny leaves and a beautiful flower in the middle. "This is the plant that would grow if we could get those seeds to sprout. It's a Timsa-Come-By. The girls haven't ever gotten to see it, so I drew a picture for them. I don't want them to lose any hope, though, so I'll just tell them it's what they need to watch out for in the mornings when they check the dirt."

"Do they really…? They check—"

"Every morning."

There was silence between them for a minute as they sat and thought about the reality surrounding them. Til knew the girls didn't expect the plant to grow. They couldn't. Despite their small stature and childish appearance, they'd lived and experienced Windhelm for twenty-one years. But it was a wonderful thing, she thought, that they would at least still hope and pretend. They saw the potential for good things to happen, no matter how small.

"Raeryn?"

"Hmm."

"Can I ask you something personal?"

Raeryn moved over to sit across the table from her, leaning forward and propping his head up in his hands.

"That depends. What's your idea of personal?"

"Can I… see your bow?"

"My bow?" Raeryn gave a short laugh. "You really do know how to get right down to the personal stuff, don't you?"

She knew he was being sarcastic, but she blushed regardless. Seeing another archer's bow was something she had always considered personal, and to some extent, Raeryn would probably agree. He walked over to the door and lifted the weapon from its holding place, handing it to her gingerly. It was Imperial made, primarily wooden and reinforced with steel. Intricate words were carved into the wood, but she couldn't read them.

"Is this Daedric?" she asked, looking up at him in surprise. He forced a smile.

"Well actually, it's Dunmeri. It's awful how many people see it and think such '_terrible_' things. Dunmeri, when written, uses the Daedric alphabet, yes. But our cultures are so different. The people of Skyrim assume there is a dark evil surrounding these letters, when in reality, it's nothing more than another form of written language. It's ancient. That's why the Daedra are associated with it… but the most of the Daedric Princes aren't even the terrible beings the Nords make them out to be."

"What does it say?"

"It says 'Eyes of the Changed-Ones.' A constant reminder of Azura's curse. It's been around for generations, but I aim to show mi'lady of Dusk and Dawn that not all of us deserve it. I respect her, though. If she says we deserve what we got, then we deserve what we got."

"Hmm." Til started, holding the bow the same way she would hold her own. The grip was tightly wrapped with leather strips, and she could tell it had been broken in well. It was made to fit his hand, and hers felt small in its place. "Holding another person's bow is like seeing into parts of their heart, for me," she said quietly. "You've had this for a very long time."

"Over a hundred years," Raeryn stated. The number sent her thoughts reeling.

"You've taken such good care of it."

"It's my pride and joy." He took the bow from her, examining it himself before setting it down on the table between them. "I've kept her battle-ready myself, making sure she gets attention whenever I have the coin. She's never let me down."

The way he talked about the bow like it was a real person made Til smile. They were companions, and it was probably one of the few things that hadn't ever disappointed him. She knew that feeling.

"Can I see yours?" he asked.

"I suppose it would only be fair." She could feel her face turning red as she slid her longbow over to him. The black and white design painted on the wood was chipping. "It's nothing special. I guess I haven't been as faithful on upkeep as you have."

"I don't think it's that. I think you've outgrown it." Raeryn smiled, turning it over. "It's nice, though. Is this the same bow you learned with?"

"It's the first one I ever got," she said, feeling childish.

"Well I don't blame you for not getting rid of it. A hunter's first bow is something special. Never get rid of this." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Ever. But you have to know the proper time to upgrade. You're older, wiser, and stronger. Once you break in your next bow, this one goes on display. Let me show you mine."

She followed him into the other room, where an extremely worn-out hunting bow hung on the wall. There were so many memories held within the item itself that she could see them reflecting in Raeryn's expression. She didn't ask about them, but they were there, just as hers would be.

"I was so small when I got this," he said, reminiscing. "It was given to me as a gift. My older brother always knew I had a knack for it."

"Revyn gave you your first bow? He would've been a bit young, then."

"Revyn? Oh, no. Geldis gave it to me. I haven't heard from him in ages. Last I knew, he was running a bar over on Solstheim, name of the Retching Netch. He started his business in gettin' people drunk when everyone fled Morrowind… he never could leave that place behind." He stopped talking for a moment, looking at Til as she examined the bow on the wall. "It's my turn to ask a question now."

"Alright," she said. "Ask away."

"Asking to see my bow wasn't really your personal question, was it?"

Til's face got hot and she turned away from him.

"You've spent most of the last three days with me," he stated. "You don't have to be afraid to ask me a question."

Before Til could restrain herself, her words were fumbling over her lips and spilling out in a hurried mess.

"Why did you save my life?"

"I was wondering when that was going to come up."

She laughed nervously and closed her eyes, deciding to be serious.

"You took a sword through your stomach," she said, "for someone you'd only met a week previously."

"I care about you," Raeryn told her truthfully. "You're one of the only people I've ever met who truly understands what I mean when I speak of being different. Of not fitting in."

"Do you pity me?"

"No, Til, I don't. Our lives are given to us and if we don't like them, we try to change them. Sometimes we can't. I know exactly what that's like. But you've made the best of it. You have self respect and…" he sighed in frustration. "You can't question why I care about you when you cried over my body."

Til's eyes widened and she looked up at him, an expression of disbelief plastered on her face.

"You were unconscious," she said.

"I was swimming in and out, actually. And one doesn't forget something like that."

"You… you were mad at me," Til stammered. "You told me you couldn't trust me after I put the Stormcloak armor on."

"I was acting out of… It hurt me to see you go down a path I knew you would later regret."

"You don't know anything about the Stormcloak army—"

"Pardon?" Raeryn started, taking a step back. "Do you see the house you're standing in? The way we're forced to stay secluded? The way they push us around and call us names? You're forgetting. You were so small when this war started. Things aren't always what they seem. You of all people should know that."

"But Re… The Dragonborn is with them, he stood witness at my side and they accepted me, even after they saw what I am."

"I also accepted you after I saw what you are! Look, I'm sure your Dragonborn friend is a great man and all, but he's also holding one of the highest ranks in the Stormcloak army. People like him get paid pretty amounts of gold to recruit people like you, who don't think they can make it anywhere better. But you can, Til! You can do things that are _so much _better than what Ulfric _Stormcloak_ has offered you." The space between them closed as he reached up and brushed some of the damp hair out of her face. "Sometimes we don't know what's best for us, and we get hot-headed when people try to tell us we made the wrong choice. But just look. Please, just look. You're a woman filled with promise, but you only give yourself as much credit as other people say you deserve. The reason you haven't gone anywhere is because you haven't decided for yourself where you want to go."

She thought for a moment in the silence between them about the years she spent training and waiting for acceptance into The Companions. No one had ever told her she should, in fact, they'd told her she couldn't. But because she was determined to prove them wrong, she got what she worked for and found a whole new family. She touched the side of her face where Raeryn's hand had been, feeling strange. It was as if he was more patient and accepting of her than The Circle had been, even though they didn't share the same problems.

"I want to adventure," she told him, letting her defenses down. "I don't even want to do it for money. I just want to go somewhere new and be someone else… see if I can make a life there. I've always been held back."

"If I had the chance I'd be on the next boat to Solstheim. I would save a seat for you, if you wanted it," Raeryn said. "But I've got a family to protect."

"You would let me come with you?" Til asked.

"If you really wanted to adventure, to go somewhere new, yes."

"Why?"

"A journey is always better with a friend." He looked over at the now boiling soup, and then back to her. "If nothing else."

"'If nothing else?'" she repeated quietly.

"Mmm hmm."

"What if there _was_ something else?"

"What if there wasn't?"

"Is there?"

"I don't know," he breathed, leaning forward. Their noses were almost touching, and Til blinked several times before closing her eyes and feeling their lips brush together in the slightest way they could. Neither of them seemed certain of whether they should proceed, and there was a moment of indecision before Raeryn shyly closed the gap, lightly grabbing her hand as he did so. They stood that way for a second, in a small, hesitant kiss underneath the old hunting bow hanging on the wall, before the harsh sizzling sound of their dinner boiling over into the fire hit their ears.

"The soup is done," he said.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

**A/N: Still here. I know. I'm sorry.**

_War is the best time to be together, and the worst time to say goodbye._

Seara thought on her father's words for quite some time as she sat on the edge of the bed, picking at the bottom of Revak's shirt. It was just as big on her as it always had been, but she was more comfortable in it each time she put it on. He was somewhere in the other room, going through the things he'd brought home from his most recent trip and trying to find places to put them. Despite the fact that they lived together, she was still aching to be closer to him, and the words of war rang true in her heart. They'd always been in the back of her mind, but only now did they truly make sense.

She remembered the day he'd said those words, his voice solemn and wanting. It was after her mother had been killed, while the wound was still fresh and the empty spot next to him in bed haunted him. Seara could see the memories swimming in his eyes as sat up late at night, remembering. As a child, she would always beg her parents to stop acting like the young couple they were. She remembered the way they would laugh together when they worked on the farm, never letting the idea of work stop them from having a good time. When she was still alive, her mother was always full of smiles and never afraid to show affection to her husband when she felt it—and even when she didn't. They never stayed angry with each other for long, because as she said, life was too short to spend her days wallowing in bitterness or holding grudges.

A memory flashed into Seara's mind, sending a smile to her lips. Ma and Da, dancing with each other outside the farmhouse, neither caring how foolish she thought they looked. They held onto each other, spinning their way through cabbage patches and rows of potatoes, wearing grins that were almost too big and dirt for shoes. When she insisted they stop, they just laughed and told her that one day she would understand why they danced. In the cold, surrounded by carts of cabbages, they lost themselves in each other's eyes again.

Silently standing up from her perch on the edge of the bed, Seara set off to find Revak. He wasn't far, just sitting at a small table in the armory examining a few trinkets and gemstones he'd chosen not to sell. There were a few journal pages on the table in front of him which he'd covered in several hastily scrawled notes during the days he was away and he was only half dressed, missing a shirt as though he'd started to come to bed but gotten sidetracked. He looked up as he heard her approaching and gave her a small smile that touched his eyes more than his lips, and she tilted her head at him.

"Busy?" she asked, walking lightly over to where he sat. She ran a hand across his upper back, loving how warm his skin felt.

"No," he told her with a sigh. "Just doing some sorting. Thinking. Digging up old memories." He ruffled up his dark red hair with a free hand, leaving some of the pieces sticking up in odd ways, and Seara wondered whether she'd ever loved an imperfection more.

"It's just one of those nights," she said, sitting on his lap. She draped her arms over his shoulders and kissed his jawbone, whispering. "What kinds of things are you thinking about?"

He hesitated for a few seconds, letting her breath carry the words over his skin. Putting an arm around her waist, he started to absentmindedly brush his fingers over her hip, and the way they felt through the fabric of his shirt brought the ache in Seara's chest to life.

"Too many things at once, _brit,_" he replied in a low voice. He laughed softly, flashing a smile as he touched his nose to hers. "I tend to get caught up."

"There are much better things to get caught up in," Seara said softly, her lips brushing against his.

"Mmm? Like what?"

She met him with a kiss, holding his face in her hands and leaning forward as it deepened, feeling the chair tip slightly. She laughed breathlessly and stood up, pulling him with her and stumbling over his feet as she pressed his body into the wall, unashamed. A bit clumsy, but she figured she still had years to get used to it, and she looked forward to every moment.

_War is the best time to be together._

* * *

><p>The next morning as she lay in bed before the sun came up, she thought about everything she would see when daylight returned. Revak's boots, his armor, his clothes in the dresser, things he'd put in logical places that weren't so logical to her… and she smiled. It was nice having someone else's possessions mixed in with her own.<p>

With Revak home and the battle won, she thought she might spend the morning in a blissfully warm and sleepy state after he awoke, continuing to admire the mess they'd made together rather than straighten it. Instead, she found herself laying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling as he came to terms with his inner demons.

"What is it like to be right?" he asked no one in particular, sending his thoughts up into the air. She couldn't see anything, but imagined the words falling flat back down onto his face, making him realize how odd they were to begin with. But she was only tired. "How do you know if you made the right choices?"

"Me?" she sighed, rolling over and putting a hand on his chest, "I just know I've done what's right when I feel at ease. But sometimes… well, sometimes even doing what's right does nothing to ease a soul in unrest."

He said nothing, and she knew he certainly wasn't at ease. He placed a hand over hers, and even though he wasn't saying anything, she could almost hear his thoughts buzzing around wildly with nowhere to go.

"What are you feeling off about all of a sudden?" she asked.

"It's not really sudden," he told her. "I've been wondering about it for a while. It's just… this war."

"The war you just potentially helped the Stormcloaks win? You're wondering _now_?"

"Well, I…"

"You had another nightmare, didn't you?"

Revak put his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes, letting out a groan as he sat up. He'd been waking up several times a night since he returned from Sovngarde, only to pace around until he could fall asleep again. There were Imperial soldiers haunting his thoughts, awake and asleep, throwing words of damnation at him and sending them into his heart. The worst part of it all was that they stuck there and took root, digging their way deeper until he couldn't think about anything else.

"I'm always having them," he confessed, producing a small flame between his fingers and lighting the candle next to the bed. He shook his hand and the flame spell extinguished itself.

Seara pushed her bad thoughts away, sitting up and putting her arms around him. He looked down at her ring and a small smile formed on his lips, quickly fading.

"What if the things they say are right? What if I'm fighting for the wrong side, and not only that, I encouraged you and Til to fight for it as well? What if those Imperial soldiers in Sovngarde weren't just portrayals of my guilt,_ okaaz miin_? What if they were really _there? _Because it was they who died doing what was right?"

"I've never supported this war," Seara told him. "I support the right for the people who fight in it to live, but I would never join the ranks myself. Ralof asked me if I would, and I told him no. There are some things that just aren't worth it. Ulfric may have been a great man with a noble cause once, or maybe he was always just corrupt and power-hungry with a talent for hiding it. Regardless, just like you told Hadvar before he died… the cause isn't what it used to be."

"I desperately want to believe that as Stormcloaks, our reasons are just. But since being home again…" He let himself fall backward, flopping down on the bed and staring at the ceiling again, watching the light from the flickering candle flame dance across the wooden beams above them. "I'll admit, I've been looking for reasons to be proud of what I'm doing for Ulfric… and I can't find any."

"Maybe you just need something to take your mind off of it," Seara suggested. "You're leaving for Riverwood tomorrow morning. Spend your last day home thinking about something else for a change, hmm?"

"I'd happily accept a more specific suggestion if you have one, _askk._" he said, smirking. He met her gaze and smiled, and her heart sped up the same way it had when they'd first met. She bent over him for a kiss, loving the way it felt to have him return it. Both of them were thankful for the distraction and for the time they had to enjoy it; time in general had been a rare thing in the recent past and was almost foreign. He ran his fingers through her hair again, and she was captivated by the feelings he gave her. The sun started to come up as they kissed, losing track of time.

"Don't leave," she pleaded. "Don't go anywhere. Stay."

"Okay," he promised in a low voice. Somehow, even though she knew he wasn't serious, his promise made her feel better. She'd missed him immensely. She still missed him, even though he was right there with her. His lips met hers with the preemptive feeling of loneliness, as if her mind was already preparing for him to be gone again. "I'll be here for as long as you let me stay."

There was a knock on the door from downstairs, and Revak closed his eyes at the sound, frustrated.

"Courier!" shouted a voice from the other side.

"It can wait," he said quietly. The knock came again.

"It's marked as urgent!"

"Apparently not," Seara told him. He groaned and got out of bed, heading downstairs. A minute or so later, he returned with a piece of parchment in hand and eyebrows drawn together in stress and worry.

"It's from Galmar," he said. "I've been requested at the palace courtyard within the hour. They've found reason to be suspicious of the elves living in the Gray-Quarter and they want to do… interrogations."

He looked down at the darkened floor, and Seara could see the candlelight flickering over the regret on his face.

"Here." She climbed out of bed and grabbed his uniform, holding it out to him. If there was anything she could do to help him feel better, she would do it. She smiled at him and his eyes lit up as they met hers, appreciative. "It's alright. I'll go with you. We can at least make our way together."

* * *

><p>And so they did. The stone streets were treacherously icy, as it was still early enough in the morning that no one had gone outside to sprinkle salt on the paths. Seara nearly slipped several times and found herself laughing over it, enjoying her husband's company for the little time they had left together.<p>

They continued on this way until they reached the graveyard, which had become a much more solemn place than it had been when Revak had given his battle speech. The weapons of dozens of the men and women who had stood in the very same spot, cheering for the words he'd spoken, were lined against the stone walls and adorned with shields, helmets, and whatever other things the fallen soldiers had kept close to their hearts when they'd fallen. Several of these small monuments had offerings lying at their bases of gold, flowers and letters. Revak was quiet as he looked around at them, remembering. His eyes were heavy with the loss of friends, his shoulders slumped. Seara squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

"I can see them," he said solemnly. "Every one of them. Some of them were too young to even be out on their own. So many lives unfulfilled." He shook his head, willing his bad thoughts away, and another mourner approached them. A young woman dressed in black and wrapped in a long cloak with the hood drawn, her dark hair falling in sheets around her face. She looked like a traveler, someone who'd come a long way to visit the makeshift graves around them, but Seara had no doubt she could protect herself. There was a shining black bow on her back, exquisite, accompanied by a quiver full of arrows. As she passed them, she slipped on a patch of ice and nearly fell, using Revak's arm to catch herself. He helped her stand up straight again, but said nothing, eyeing her feet suspiciously.

"Hmph," she muttered. She turned her face away and walked past them, stopping in front of a sword and helmet several yards away. She shuffled her feet as she looked down at it, covering her boots in snow. Sniffling, she wiped her nose.

"What connection do you have to Solfdar?" Revak asked, just loud enough for her to hear.

"He was a cousin," she said without missing a beat. "I haven't even gotten a chance to rest, and I've just finished the journey to pay my respects. If you don't mind, I'd like a few minutes in peace to do so."

Revak tilted his head at her, narrowing his eyes. For a reason unbeknownst to Seara, he was livid.

"She's with the Guild," he accused in a low, malicious voice. "Did you make your way from Riften?"

Without answering, she turned to leave, her cloak fluttering behind her.

"Aren't you supposed to make yourself presentable before paying your respects?" he spat.

"_Revak," _Seara whispered. He took several strides forward, walking after the woman and yelling at her back.

"How dare you show yourself here and put on one of your acts, lying about the loss of a good man to steal the coin of their family and friends in mourning!" He pushed her, but she stood strong against his accusations and braced herself. "I can see your boots, sneak-thief. You should be ashamed that you can stand here and pretend _any_ of these men and women meant a thing to you while you wear that armor and _stench _of the Ratway!"

She whirled around to meet his gaze, defiant. Her face, darkened by her hood, appeared to be deeply scarred.

"Oh, the stories I've heard about _you_." Her voice was drawn out, as cold as the ice at their feet. "You once stood where I stand, Dragonborn. Once upon a time, you wore the same armor I wear, and you wore it proudly. The only difference between us is that you abandoned your family for a life of fame and recognition. Am I really the one who should be ashamed?" She held out his coin purse with a smirk, offering it to him. Seara hadn't even seen her take it. "If the gold means that much to you, you can have it back. We don't even need your pocket change anymore, traitor. The Thieves' Guild has grown, no thanks to you."

He knocked the coins out of her hand and they scattered on the stone beneath them, clinking against each other and ringing in the quiet morning air.

"Keep your dirty work's wages," he sneered. "Tell your _family_ I said 'hello.'"

She turned to leave, a satisfied smirk making its home on her lips. Revak watched her go, doing nothing to stop her, and when Seara looked up at him, there was a deep sadness in his eyes.

"Let's go," she said, grabbing his hand. She started to walk, but he didn't move. "She's gone. Let her be."

Revak gave a short, agitated laugh, looking up at the sky as the fresh snow continued to fall.

"The gods won't let me forget anything I've done."


End file.
